


In the shadows, in the stars

by FluffKills



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Aliens, Auntie Casta is Catty, Best Friend Squad (She-Ra), Best friend squad in space, Blood and Injury, Catra has Anxiety, Family Fluff, Horde Prime is terrible you guys, Lesbians in Space, Look guys it's now a tag finally!, Multi, Nobody ever says "Swift Wind", Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Why is the best friend squad not a tag, let adora say fuck, non-canonical swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 105,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25841110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffKills/pseuds/FluffKills
Summary: Melog has always been there for Catra, as a friend and companion, stable and sure. But when the strange alien begins experiencing emotions and memories that lead to them lashing out in rage and fear, it’s Catra’s turn to do anything she can to help them. Together, they explore the strangeness of freedom and emotions, of acceptance and forgiveness.Now, Catra and her friends have a new goal: to uncover the lost past of the people of Krytis, and to see if there is any hope of a future where Melog is no longer the last
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Catra & Glimmer (She-ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Catra & Melog (She-Ra), George/Lance (She-Ra)
Comments: 311
Kudos: 322





	1. Chapter 1

It was difficult for Catra to describe how much Etheria had changed when the Heart unlocked. At first, she chalked up the vibrant sensation flowing through her skin and tingling to the base of her spine, to her feelings finally awakening. Her love being returned fully and completely. The air around her felt both lighter and thick, rich like the syrupy drink spiked with alcohol Perfuma shared with them on the first night of their victory. The earth thrummed below her feet, a deep purr resonant and rich. Energy crackled through her body, invigorating her and making laughter come easily as she ran through the Whispering Woods two days later, chased by Adora, their mission to speak to Razz turning into a game of tag. And the stars, the stars above, now free to shine down on them, seemed to sing every night.

Weeks later, the real work, the true labour of peace piled up, with meetings and discussions and fights that crackled and burned brightly for a minute before burning out just as fast as they started. After the first shine of love passed, Catra had to admit that regardless of her inner feelings, the world around her had changed. Even when frustration boiled in the pit of her stomach and tension strung through her spine, the glimmering air of the forest still felt like an oncoming storm. Even when her darkest thoughts filled her head at night and she slipped from Adora’s side to sit on the roof until, inevitably, her girlfriend found her, the pulse of the planet ran through her. The world was a giant no longer slumbering, but awake and alert. 

It was another night of restless sleep, driving Catra from her bed. Slipping up easily from the balcony, Catra takes up her seat on the cooling stone. After a few minutes, like a shadow among shadows, Melog hopped up to rest beside her. Pressing against her side, the alien shapeshifter is strangely cool as well, not sucking her heat like the broad marble below, but just a bit colder than what Catra would have thought of as a living body. 

Overhead, the silent moons swam through the inky blackness, watched over by the million candle-bright stars. Catra confides her ideas on the changes to Melog. She always did, safe in the assurance that the strange creature who knew her heart wouldn’t mock her. “It feels different, but a good sort of different. It’s like… too much rich food. Too much everything, somehow.” she says, her voice low, not wanting to wake Adora just yet. “I don’t know.” She shakes her hand, gesturing at nothing. “It’s so much, all the time. But not bad.”

Melog’s echoing voice thrums out their answer, _It just feels like home._

Melog was her anchor through all the changes, pressed tight to her, two halves of the same soul. Swift Wind had tried to explain his soul bond with Adora, and Catra tried to understand, but it didn’t feel like the same thing, not exactly. Swift Wind was very much Adora’s sort of horse, huge and silly and annoying and pretty, though she would never let the damn creature know that last part. But he also felt like his own thing. Melog felt like part of her, in a strange way. A limb she never knew she was missing. A mirror that reflected without cutting her with glassy shards. 

Sometimes, when she stroked her fingers through their strange mane, she asked them if they minded being stuck with a person like Catra. Depending on her mood, that question was cut with either humour or a dark bitterness. Today, the question twisted inside her. What could she possibly bring to Melog? Even Swift Wind had his liberation of horses, his own projects. Catra feels like a parasite, sucking the freedom from this strange being a thousand lightyears from home. 

_I was never stuck with you. I was drawn to you. As you were to me._ Melog assures her, tirelessly, as always. _On Krytis, I was walking through the centuries in a slumber, lost to memories, empty. Together, we can feel, and live._ They bump her lightly, purring, their weight as changeable as the seasons, but Catra has noticed that they felt more solid, somehow, more dense, since the magic returned. Her fingers drag through the thick , tangible fog of the glowing mane and she nods. Usually, this is enough. This presence is enough, the strength and coolness of them beside her. Tonight, though, she’s driven to ask more. 

“What do YOU feel, though? What do YOU want?” Her voice quavers, and she tries to bite back her uncertainty. 

Melog is silent for a long moment, before resting a heavy head on her lap. _I want what I have now. Every day, you wake, and I am reminded how I want this. Good and bad, to be alive and to share with you._ Their tongue touches her leg, reassuring. Catra’s thumb strokes over the point of their false ear. It’s so smooth, and gives just a little. _To explore this world, to be with Adora, to know your friends. To see you happy. These are not bad things to want._

Catra laughs, soft and bitter, her hand splaying over their neck. “Sometimes I’m not even sure what I want, I guess.” 

_I know._ Melog murmurs, their voice lazy now, as sleepy as the woods below them. 

“I wish I knew you like you know me.” Catra says, a smile playing over her lips. Sometimes, she wishes she could feel what Melog felt. A proper exchange, rather than this one sided affair. She draws her fingers through the clouded mane, twirling them in the way she’s learned Melog likes. She once asked them about it, remembering it as being around their head, before they settled on this form. Melog assured her quickly that she wasn’t shoving her hand in some alien version of their skull.

 _It is close enough to hair, but also sensory. I cannot say I can see things through it, but I can detect things. That was partially how I was aware you and your friends arrived._ They told her then. Catra finds herself wondering, while she’s sensitive to the planet's changes, every hair tingling, if Melog, with this foreign organ, feels them even more so. 

Melog starts to purr, and at the same instant Catra is aware of the soft noise of Adora, waking from her slumber to find the bed missing an occupant. The noise is so subtle, filtered out from the balcony and past the waterfall, that anyone who didn’t shadow Adora like Melog shadows Catra would have never noticed. This time, though, she won’t make Adora find her. She slips out from under the languid alien sleeping under the equally alien stars, and her deep thoughts swim away under the brightness and immediacy of Adora clinging to her as she returns. 

* * *

It was hard labour, a lot of it, rebuilding a kingdom. Rebuilding several kingdoms. Catra has been trying not to think of it as fixing what she did, because in many cases, Prime did much worse in a matter of months than she could have with years in the Horde. In other cases, she’s rebuilding stuff from before she was born, like with the Scorpion Kingdom. But so much of it was something she had a personal hand in. So she pushed herself, and kept pushing herself, to do more and better until no one could doubt for a second she was worth saving. Especially when she didn’t always think she was.

Catra tried not to tell Adora she thought of it like that, either, since that just upset her girlfriend. Adora, who was much more willing to take every carefully worded phrase when Catra was angry and every marginally friendly gesture as all she needed for her redemption. But it wasn’t that simple. Nothing about peace was simple. 

Catra dealt with these dark thoughts and feelings that troubled her in a variety of ways. The unhealthy ones, where she forced them deep inside her and tried to lock them away, or where she spat them out like venom at others, trying to share her pain and fear. The better ones, where she let them out, carefully, gently, trying to avoid getting clawed and scratched by them, aided by tea and breathing and kindness. And this way, the way most of the others did, intentionally or not, where she simply got too busy to even consider them. 

The problem with being busy enough to block out the worst thoughts, was that even the nice thoughts were forgotten. The vibrancy of Etheria with its new magic unchained never ceased, but less and less did Catra reflect on it. Especially not when Adora and her (the three most wonderful words in the world) were able to work together. 

They spent the next morning after her nighttime talk with Melog rerouting strange beasts from a small town within the Whispering Woods. The lumbering creatures moved with velvety soft treads, and the town was overrun with them by dawn. Catra and Adora tried frightening them, and cajoling them, until finally they discovered the beasts were curious about Adora’s bright sword and shimmering hair as She-Ra. Then it was just a matter of making fences to direct their movement around, not through, the town in the future. 

Later that week, they visited the Scorpion Kingdom, Catra working to help determine how to safely decommission and dismantle some of the more precarious remnants of her fight with Hordak. Some of it was also from when they attempted to save Scorpia, but it was hard going to remind herself with both guilt and a bit of pride that this all wasn’t her doing.

Scorpia helped She-Ra in moving things, Adora trying to turn it into a competition, the scorpion queen indifferent to the idea as long as “Everyone has fun!” They all finished after sunset, and Adora and her shared their special spot, spared from being destroyed. Catra told them it was because it was too structurally important, and Scorpia and Adora pretended to believe that’s why they had to carefully work around it.

As they sat in the familiar place, strange lights glimmer overhead like summer insects, and Catra managed to breathe long enough to admire them. Etheria seemed to have a weight to it, a depth and breadth that made the world before seem hollow. Adora, she realised now, always had that weight to her. Adora, the golden child, the champion, always felt more real and alive than anyone Catra ever knew. Was this what magic meant? As she felt the warm metal under their legs, radiating the heat of the day in the cool night, she could imagine what Melog meant by home. Adora, alive and real beside her. Warmth and coolness against her skin where it filtered through her fine fur. The clean smell of new growth mixed with the tang of rust. Memories. 

Adora startled as she felt Catra press into her shoulder. Catra was grateful for the silence as she hid her face in the dusty jacket she’d yet to steal from her girlfriend. It was all too much, and sometimes she wondered if her heart could take it all. 

* * *

The problem with being busy, with letting work wash over her, was it took Catra a full week to realise Melog was missing. 

It was a creeping sensation of wrongness, but it took until a meeting with the princess for Catra to discover what was missing. Catra, having some very personal thoughts about her girlfriend, only to not have a strange space alien embarrass her by acting them out. No Melog leaping into Adora’s lap or pressing into her side, mane pinkish-violet, purring up a storm. No Melog to try to urge the two of them together with knowing words that only Catra could understand. And as she thought back, more absences struck her. 

Melog not pressed to her leg when she was nervous about meeting some generals on reconstruction, generals she’d personally fought against. Melog not waiting at the door when she awoke and enjoyed the brief time she had with Adora before Adora belonged to the world. Melog not begging to share in treats that she stole from the kitchen because it was more fun that way. 

The guilt hit her almost as soon as the realization did. She tries to think of when she last saw them. Surely it wasn’t that long? Surely there had been other times they’d been around her? How had she not noticed? How had she not cared enough to notice? Ice filled her stomach. 

Meeting adjourned, Catra quickly leaves, giving Adora a strained smile that she missed, busy as she was with the questions others were asking of her. Good. Adora didn’t need to know how Catra fucked up this time. Tail slashing through the air with worry, she darted around the palace, looking in all her usual haunts that had become Melog’s usual haunts. 

The roof was empty, as were the stables and the kitchen. The gym was bare, and the storerooms with their comforting nooks were frustratingly lacking in space felines. Catra then moved on to places she normally didn’t go, the twisted gardens owned by Shadow Weaver, the scent of the strange flowers sickening the air. The dusty libraries of the palace, saved from destruction. She even risked a peek into the throne room, but it too was terribly and mercifully empty. Turning, she walks right into Glimmer, looking as startled as Catra was. Catra jumps back, slapping into the door with a startled hiss. 

“Are you alright?” Glimmer asks, her voice soft with worry, Bow following behind her. Of course it had to be both of them. Taking a breath, letting it ease through her body and smoothing her tail, Catra faces them and puts on her best, fakest smile.

“Sure, I’m just wondering where Melog is,” she asks, and in a heartbeat she sees the small shifts in Glimmer’s face. Sparkles was too smart, too like her, to fall for this. Glimmer glances at Bow, and while she’s pretty sure she can fool Arrow Boy any and every day, the glance speaks of words unspoken letting him in on Catra’s deception. 

“No. Are they missing?” the princess.. No, the queen. Catra tries to remember that she’s the queen, asks her. She grits her jaw and looks away. 

“Maybe? I just can’t find them and it’s, you know. Weird.” she admits. Her claws dig at her arm, and she forces them to stop, willing her hand to still. She can hear a soft thumping, and Catra realises it’s her own tail, beating a nervous tattoo on the door she’s been backed into. Glimmer gestures to another set of doors, though, and they all move into a meeting room, one of many in the palace, free of people. 

Bow pulls out a chair, but Catra shakes her head, sharply. The silence from the other two begs her to continue. “I just noticed that they weren’t with us at the meeting, and it got me a little freaked out, that’s all. Like.. no big deal, right?” She laughs, and it feels broken. She thought the days of people leaving her were over, but maybe they’d never stop.

Glimmer’s mouth pouts into a frown that looks too young for her years, and she says, “It’s a bit of a big deal. So, when did you last see them?”

The tension and fear makes Catra’s neck ache as she tries to maintain control of her voice, but she feels the terror rising up in spite of her. Melog was gone, they left her, she finally went too far, was too much. They looked into her heart and found it wanting. With more venom than she meant to, she snaps at Glimmer, “I don’t KNOW when I last saw them! That’s the fucking PROBLEM!”

Glimmer’s body changes, and Catra can see every muscle tightening, her eyes narrowing, but before she can apologize the young queen takes a deep breath of her own.

“Okay, I got it, but freaking out is not going to find them. I’ll get the guards to look around.” Catra nods, tersely, her eyes darting around every corner, ears flicking. Glimmer takes a moment, and adds, “I don’t think I’ve seen them for almost a week? The last time I can remember was that barbeque, and that was 9 days back. I can’t be sure, though.” 

“Maybe they’re invisible?” suggests Bow, his voice cautious, as if Catra would tell him that idea was stupid. Which she might have if the strain of her emotions wasn’t closing her throat against any words. She forces out another nod. That makes sense, but somehow is much worse than even her run-away mind had taken her. The darkness insides her twists. Melog leaving would be awful, Melog hiding would be terrible, but Melog being there? Just.. seeing how Catra had forgotten them? Seeing how Catra never even noticed them missing? Catra never deserved them. Melog would see how little Catra cared, and then of course they’d have wanted to leave. Who wouldn’t?

“Maybe they finally got sick of me,” she says, her laughter a fragile thing that tries to make a joke out of fear. Immediately, Glimmer’s face softens and her hand reaches to hold one of Catra’s own. Catra fights not to yank hers away. Bow rests an arm around her, the duo surrounding her with warmth. She can feel the panic racing away with her, but she fights it too, fights against clawing the help away from her. 

“No, they wouldn’t be,” Glimmer assures her, giving her hand a squeeze. She gives Catra a careful smile, and adds “Even _I_ like you now, Horde scum. Whatever the reason, it’s not anything you did.” Catra gives her the ghost of a smirk back, her tail slapping the side of Glimmer’s thigh. She can’t laugh again, but a spark of her brightens. Still, the darkness inside presses her to test this careful peace.

“Even if I forgot about them?” she says, and Glimmer squeezes her hand once again.

“Catra, if people vanished on me every time I got too busy, Bow would have been long gone like… 5 years before you even met us.” This does make Catra snort. Poor Arrow Boy. 

“We don’t even really know a lot about them. Maybe this is just something they have to do sometimes? Or maybe they just felt like an adventure? Swift Wind is always doing that.” Bow suggests, his low voice reassuring. Catra hates how calming it is, then hates how she doesn’t hate it, then leans into him anyway, letting herself be cared for. 

“I don’t know anything about them.” she admits. “I asked them what they wanted and then this happened. Maybe.. Maybe they finally decided they didn’t want all this after all.” Even with all this, she can’t let that idea go. Fear is a hard habit to break, and one she’s learning to work on. Now, at least, she can feel the panic rising and heads it off. Calming platitudes wash over her as the pair reassure her that things aren’t so dire as all that, and she lets them fill her ears. The warmth of Bow, strong and solid, holds her up. The wine-rich air washes over her with a thousand scents, pulsing with life, as she tries to keep herself from falling into her personal maelstrom. Bow, rich and calming. Glimmer, sharp and perfumed but her own stresses always cutting through any amount of gentle princessly washes and spray. And growing stronger, Adora approaching, a heady wash of sweet and dark, lively and bright in a way nothing else is. Catra looks up just in time to see her skid past the door, then come back. 

“Catra! Are you okay!?” she asks, panic a sour tinge to her scent, her voice too loud in Catra’s ears. Catra is pressed into the rest of the squad before she can move, Adora heavy and desperate against her back. She squirms until she can speak, twisting to free herself enough to face her girlfriend. 

“Yeah, I’m fine now, I’m just worried about Melog. I haven’t seen them in ages.” she says, Bow losing the weight of her head as Catra rests it against her girlfriend. Her tail automatically winds around one of Adora’s legs. Adora’s grip tightens around her, then relaxes, and Catra can smell the tang of fright ease away from, can hear her heart slowing down.

“Okay. Okay, okay. Right, that.. That makes sense.” Adora says, voice as brisk and awkward as ever when she embarrassed herself. “Well, I have good news, they’re under our bed. And really upset. But they were probably really upset because YOU were upset, so they’re probably good now.” Catra perks, hearing that, relief flowing through her so quickly it forces out a snort of a laugh. After all that, and they never even left the palace?

“You’re kidding me? I was losing my mind and they’ve been under our bed this whole time?” she says, as Bow and Glimmer give her one more squeeze before she shoves them away, her joy palpable in her mouth. Glimmer’s gentleness melds back into her normal prickly-fun demeanor, the foil that Catra likes pushing and who likes pushing back, and who’s pushing her into Adora now with a groan through her smile. Bow’s relief is open as well, his grateful grin broad. 

“Go find your damn space cat, and stop worrying so much.” Glimmer snaps at the other two, before grasping Bow tightly by the hand to blink them away in a rush of absence that Catra never stops feeling like a missing tooth when it occurs. But it doesn’t matter now, as Catra grabs Adora’s hand, half dragging her back to their room. The energy that fills every inch of the world now and makes it rich and florid fills her just as the relief did before. 

She’ll talk to Melog, and they’ll talk to her, and maybe this is a fear she can share with them. And maybe this is the time to ask them more about themselves, too, to get to understand the part of their heart that isn’t hers. After all, she can’t just rely on them feeling like her. And after that? It’s a nice afternoon with Adora and no particular need to go anywhere, so she’s sure they can find something to do.

Catra half expects to see Melog on the shared bed, prim and proper and acting like nothing has happened. Or to meet them at the door. But instead, the room is empty. Or, at least, empty if one didn’t know where to look. Catra has to crouch down to see the void between messy blankets and the floor. It’s dark, darker than it should be in the afternoon sun that streams through the vault of the windows and balcony to brighten every corner. Catra, even with her keen eyes, can only just make out the throbbing dark puce and garnet of Melog, their eyes like the crimson tinted blackness of Catra’s worst days. A low growl fills the room. She can hear Adora’s gasp behind her.

“Melog? I’m sorry I forgot to check on you. Really. Are.. are you okay? Can we talk?” Catra asks, uncertain. She had been feeling good, great even. There’s no reason for this. Had she broken Melog somehow with her emotions? “Melog?” They growl again, then snarl, and dread drops through Catra’s head into her stomach like a steel spike. 

“What’s wrong? What are they saying?” Adora asks, just behind her. And Catra shakes her head, tears burning the corners of her eyes. 

She doesn’t understand what Melog is saying. She can’t even tell if they’re speaking at all. As the growl grows to discordant levels, she tries to calm herself, tries to focus, to smooth over her feelings and fears. She tries to send every good feeling she can towards them. Nothing changes, except the horrible thought that work and meditation and long nights under a new sky can’t protect her from now.

Melog is truly alien. And Catra really doesn’t know them at all.


	2. Chapter 2

“Catra? Catra! What’s wrong?! What is Melog saying!?”

Adora’s voice cuts sharply through the resonating growl that shakes the room under Catra’s feet. She skitters back, her eyes wide as she feels a sharp stab of emotion, overriding everything, even her own panic. Rage. Confusion. Loss. Fear. Clutching her chest, her heart races under her hand. Claws cut, and cuts burn. 

Catra struggles as she’s wrapped and restrained by something, fighting the pressure around her, kicking out. The words in her ears come through muffled and distant, as though she’s underwater. Her eyes see red. Her mind is not her own…

“CATRA!” 

The sensation stops like a door slamming in her face, though the memories still swim in her head. Catra can taste iron on her lips, smells sweat and fear. Adora is holding her, tight and unyielding, as unstoppable as she was in the Heart. Catra’s muscles go limp under the realization, a marionette with her strings cut, and she hangs in her girlfriend’s arms. The sickeningly familiar taste of blood clings to her tongue, and she whips her head around, trying to see where she’s hurt Adora. Her eyes fill with tears as a different panic fills her.

Not again. She can’t keep hurting everyone. First Melog, then her.

“Fuck… Adora, there’s blood on you!” 

“From you! Shit.. stop, no, stop struggling. Let me heal you. Oh no, and your lip too..” Adora’s voice is worried and fast, and her gentle restraint doubles as Catra tries to writhe free of her grip, fearful of further wounding her. It takes long seconds for the words to enter her mind, and for her to understand them. Wait, she hurt herself? When?

Eyes focus, and she realises they’re out of their room once more, in the hall, where Adora probably dragged her. Gasping, she feels a sudden pulse of warmth as Adora glows, just for a moment, filling her with that life that is heavy in the air, directing it into Catra and letting it make her whole. Blood still clings to her lip, though, where she bit down on it. Catra rubs it away with a quick hand as Adora finally risks loosening her grip. She glances down. Claw marks have rendered her top almost obscenely revealing, centered over her heart. 

“Dammit. I liked this shirt.”

“Catra, what was that? Melog was going wild and then you started freaking out. I didn’t know what to do, you wouldn’t talk to me…” Adora says, soft and quick, the fear never leaving her blue eyes. Catra’s tail slashes back and forth, and she can feel her hair and fur rising.

“I don’t know. It was like they forgot how to speak… And then it… I felt…” Catra stops, her voice shaking, and Adora rests a hand on her shoulder. She covers it with one of her own, letting herself be grounded in the presence, the realness, of this woman, this love. They rest their foreheads together, sharing the warmth of each other’s breath. Adora’s heart slows, and Catra’s follows. For a moment, Catra laughs even as she fights her fear. How messed up was it that she, of all people, can calm Adora down?

“I think I felt what they were feeling, now. But it was terrible.. Feral. Stars, Adora, it was like my worst nights. It was like…” Catra pauses. No, she’s felt this sort of thing before. Many Etherians had, now. “It was like what it was when I was.. I was chipped. Other feelings that overwhelmed mine, from outside.” She gazes past Adora, her mind racing. “Is that what they feel all the time with ME? Adora, have I been CONTROLLING them?”

Her head whips around, to the bedroom. To where the bedroom should be. 

“Adora, how far did you have to drag me?”

Catra can hear the frown on Adora’s voice. “What? Just out of the room, I didn’t want you getting hurt.” But there’s no room behind them, just an empty wall, like all the other walls in the palace. She flicks her head from side to side. No, this was the corridor they live on, she can see a few choice claw marks that she’s added every time Glimmer gets the staff to buff them out of the wall. But it was like their room had vanished, the wall as smooth and unbroken as if it had never existed. 

“Wait. No, we know what this is. An illusion.” Adora says, sudden and bright with realisation. “They did it before. On Krytis.” Catra blinks, and then frowns. Right, illusion magic. They lead the squad in circles. Apparently, everything, even the spikes, had just been Melog’s illusion magic. The magic Catra uses but has yet to truly know. Her hand rubs roughly up and down her arm, against the fur and then with it, an action to prevent her from clawing again. 

“Fuck, they really don’t want us near them.” she mutters. Before, she would just leave, abandon whoever didn’t want her. But this was her fault. She has to try.

Catra presses her hand to the wall, and she can feel it sink past the illusion, into the vacant doorway. After a moment, the illusion melts away. The room is back, unchanged, save for the silence of Melog, the doors on either side open like before. Catra stares at the void under the bed. She can almost fool herself into seeing eyes, but she knows she’s not sure.

“I’m.. I’m sorry, Melog. I never wanted to hurt you, to make you hurt like I did. But.. but I’ll fix this. I’ll make it better.” The room is silent, still. Can they even understand her, anymore? Is that part of their bond shattered as well? Turning, she moves to close the doors, only to see Adora helping on the other side. Adora gives her a weak and worried smile, but full of her trademark hope, and Catra does her best to return it.

“I guess this is Melog’s room, for now.” Adora says, her voice too bright. Catra nods, the numbness in her chest worse than the ache of worry. She takes a long breath, before slumping against the doors. 

“I need to fix what I’ve done.” she says. “If this bond is hurting Melog, I have to end it. I never wanted to control them.”

Adora’s eyes flick to the door, and then back to Catra. “I don’t think you were. Really. They never seemed like they were controlled to _me_.”

“But I made them leave their home, for me!” Catra spits out, looking down. Adora snorts, and Catra can feel a flash of embarrassed anger. Nothing about this was funny!

“Um, Catra, _I_ asked them to come with us, not you. Because, you know, magic?” She waves her hands around, and Catra feels a smile, even against her own self doubt. Magic, the thing that tugs at her skin and hums through her bare feet. She moves her own hand, experimentally, and wonders if she can actually feel the thickness of it in the air against her motions, like Melog’s mane. She doesn’t, but it almost feels like it was possible, for an instant. 

“Magic.” she murmurs. “Melog’s magic. Right, even if they want to be here, I can’t force them to feel what I do, all the time. Not like that. Not when I’m… working on things.” Not when her worst was so very bad, still. “We need to find out how their magic works. I still need to fix this, Adora.” Her final words were firm, and when she looks into Adora’s blue eyes, she can see that determination reflected so strongly her heart softens in the numb void. Her beautiful, strong, foolish Adora. 

As she moves from the door, she feels a tingle against her tail. She doesn’t need to look to know what happened, but she turns, nonetheless. The wall was unbroken again, Melog shielded once more.

* * *

For once, Adora didn’t have to pressure Catra to ask for help and support, to fight against her fear of being seen as weak. They’re both going to find the other members of the squad, an automatic reaction on the part of Adora, but one that suits Catra’s purposes now. Even Catra knows she doesn’t know anything about magic. Nor does Adora, bumbling along with her sword and her smile and her destiny. Not really. But Glimmer certainly does, and Catra can trust Glimmer with this. She can feel a smile flicker across her lips for a moment, and Adora must have seen it too, because she asks, “What’s that smile for?” Not an interrogation, but a playful tease. 

“Nothing.” Catra replies, smiling more. “Certainly not about how weird it is that I have to ask a sparkly princess that I was trying to kill about how to make my magical friend feel better.” 

“Awwww, you have frieeeeends” Adora drawls, her expression painfully goofy, and Catra laughs, shoving her roughly so that she stumbles into a guard. Good! That gives Catra a head start to race down the hall.

“Shut up! You can’t prove anything!” she calls back, dashing over the slick floors with her claws out in the way Glimmer hates, but how else does anyone get traction on the slippery stone? What was the point of even living in this sparkling, clean, lifeless palace that Glimmer seemed perfectly happy to rebuild just as boring as before, if Catra couldn’t add some needed character to it? She should show Sparkles all the claw gouges back in the Fright Zone next time she complains. 

The throne room, at least, had some character. The throne was still there, big and stupid, hanging out into space in a surreal sort of way, occasionally full of Glimmer. The room before it was too large, and always full of guards. They seemed to come with the building, filling every corner, like the windows and waterfalls and statues. They were practically statues themselves. 

But now, there was also a scattering of chairs in front of the throne. The succession was strange, even for the strangeness of the time after the war. Micah was the King, but Micah had always been more of a consort. Had never properly shared the single throne. And his daughter was the Queen, full in the powers of the gem of Bright Moon, yet still his daughter. And Bow was.. Well.. Bow was something. Probably. 

As a compromise, and against much confusion, three mini-thrones were placed in front of the throne proper as needed. When Glimmer had to reign, to throw her muscle and intimidate the rabble, she did it alone, vast and implacable on the solitary and mystical seat to her kingdom. But most of the time, she sat in front of it, Bow to one side and Micah to the other, and just simply ruled.

Ruling was what she was doing now, with Bow, going over something or another. Glimmer adjusts the cushion against her back and Bow shifts in his seat, the wooden thing creaking, just a little, the joints not quite right, a sound only Catra’s ears ever pick up. Especially here, the sweetness of air that feels like wine makes Catra’s tail twitch and her eyes sparkle. She hated having to do her duties in this room because it set her pulse racing, making her want to run, to fight, to be. Magic rulers, magic throne room. It makes sense. But it was overwhelming, every single time her foot crossed the threshold and the sensations of it raced up her spine like sparks in her fur on a dry winter’s morning.

They look up, and the welcoming smiles on their faces makes Catra stop in her step, still not used to anyone but Adora actually happy to see her. Anyone but Adora and, before now, Melog. 

“How’s Melog?” asks Glimmer, clearly grateful to put aside whatever she’s doing, and Catra’s tail flicks. “Wait.. why is there blood on your shirt...what happened to your shirt, Catra?” Bow starts to stand, concern naked on his face. Adora moves beside her, gripping her hand, and replies in her stead.

“We think something’s actually wrong with Melog. Catra can’t understand them anymore and, um, they still seem really freaked out.” Catra clutches Adora’s hand like a lifeline, and sorts out her words before speaking herself.

“I could feel what they were feeling. I think. I’m not sure, because it was a lot like some.. places my mind has been. Sometimes. But, it wasn’t like I thought it would be. It was more like they were yelling the feelings into my head.” She squeezes Adora’s hand, before letting go to step forward. “I never knew it could be like that, for them. I’ve been hurting them, and I need to find out how to stop.” Adora moves up with her, her heat thrumming in the magical air, Catra so much more aware of it. 

“Is Melog who hurt you?” Bow asks, his voice sounding hollow, shocked. Catra quickly shakes her head and looks aside. 

“No. I just… I was freaking out. I didn’t even know I did this until Adora snapped me out of it. Melog never touched me. They just wanted to be left alone.” she says, voice soft, embarrassment making her tail wag and her ears droop even further. 

“Catra. Are you _positive_ that it’s you who’s causing this?” Glimmer asks, and Catra hears her use what she thinks of as Glimmer’s ‘I’m being reasonable’ tone. It’s nowhere near as nice and neutral as the queen thinks it is, and one day Catra is going to tell her how exactly it sounds like her snooty aunt. 

“Of course it’s me! What else could it be?” she retorts, sharp and hot, an instant molten feeling under her skin, before it fades as quickly as it came. “I don’t know magic, I don’t know how to help them, to fix this, and I need you to help me figure it out.”

“And you don’t know Melog.” says Glimmer, and Catra digs her claws into the perfect floor to keep from punching the queen. Again, though, that feeling passes, though the air around her tastes of a thunderstorm. She forces herself to take a deep breath, closing her eyes. They all wait. They’ve all learned that sometimes Catra's moments to contain herself have to happen.

“You’re right. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” she adds, and Bow chuckles. “No. I’m- I’m here because I don’t know magic and I don’t know Melog, and I don’t know what’s causing this. And maybe you can help, _your majesty_.” She lets her sarcasm drip on the last words, bowing, but Glimmer just rolls her eyes and grins back. 

“So kind of you to ask, First Advisor to the Throne Catra.” Glimmer says in reply, adding extra pomp to the words. The strange, tingling sensation of ozone on Catra’s tongue melts into the coolness of mint, and she lets the energy fill her, this swirling sensation that the sedate throne room is exactly wrong for. Catra turns to Adora, grinning and bowing again with a smirk.

“So, She-Ra, protector of Etheria, care to join the noble ruler of Bright Moon and her consort to the throne to strategize?”

“Hold on guys, why am I a consort?” Bow asks. “Can’t I be, you know, the First Engineer to the Throne?” 

“Yeah, and if Bow’s a consort, you’re the consort for She-Ra,” Adora notes with a smug look of her own. Catra sputters, trying to stop the heat from her cheeks, both grateful and lonely that Melog isn’t televising her blush in their swirls of their tail and mane. 

“She’s not consorting with ME, and last I checked, I’m the queen in this room,” Glimmer notes primly, standing up. Bow smiles and puts the papers back onto his seat as he joins them. “And I give the titles. So the First Engineer and Incredibly Sexy Consort Bow and I are going to help you figure this out.” Bow goes crimson as well, and chokes. 

“What?! No, just the first part is fine! Please tell me you’re not making that my actual title??” he whines, and Catra laughs, leaning into Adora. 

“Changed my mind, I can be She-ra’s consort as long as Bow gets the unique and esteemed title of Abs Boy, how about that?” she purrs, her tail snaking around Adora. She can feel Adora’s laughter as well, every giggle-snort, against her side. 

“Sexy Abs Boy the First…” Adora adds, sharing a look with Glimmer, who makes a show of considering it while examining Bow’s midriff. 

“Guuuuuys, this isn't a joke! No one is going to take me seriously if I have a title like that.” Bow groans. “I engineer! It’s what I do! You even use my tech all the time! I’m not just Glimmer’s boyfriend!”

Catra can’t stop smiling, and leans into Adora, murmuring, “You know, we could always ask her to call him Kyle the Second.” Adora gasps out another laugh, muffles it, and hisses, “No! That’s mean,” but Catra can see she hasn’t stopped grinning. 

Catra can feel the energy around her calm as they leave the throne room, still rich, but more sedate, less concentrated to intoxicating levels. 

“So, seriously, can we agree that we do our best to find out more about Melog before jumping to conclusions?” Glimmer says, briskly, ignoring the rows of guards straightening up for her as she strides down the hall. Just like she ignores the fresh claw gouges in the marble. Catra crosses her arms tight to her chest.

“Fine.” Catra says, cowed. She knows how she feels, but she wanted help, and Glimmer was giving her it. So, in theory, she had to at least try to listen to her advice. “It’s not going to be easy. I only got a glimpse about Krytis from.. You know. And Melog doesn’t seem to want to talk, or maybe they can’t, right now. I don’t even know what Melog’s people were called.” She looks at Adora. “You have your bond thing with the horse, right?”  
  
“Catra, you KNOW his name and you know I do,” Adora says, rolling her eyes. “Yes? Do you want to talk to Swift Wind?” Catra ducks quickly, looking around, half expecting the flying animal to barrel through one of the elaborate windows at his name, like an unlucky spirit. 

“No! Absolutely not! But it’s the closest thing to this sort of bond I’ve heard of. It’s not like people are having magical animals imprinting on them left and right.” She glances at Glimmer and Bow, “They.. aren’t, are they? Nobody has said anything like that now that everything is more magical?” The duo shake their heads. Catra breathes a sigh of relief. Honestly, with how present the enchantment of the world was now, the strange creatures she sees every day, each one new and different, she wouldn’t have put it past Etheria to start pairing people up like that. 

“Either way, first I’d like to see how Melog is acting for myself. You can stay out of the room, though, Catra,” Glimmer says, tilting her head with a sympathetic nod. “I could even grab you a new shirt. Melog didn’t try to hurt you either, did they, Adora?” 

Adora shakes her head, quick and certain. “Not even close. Even when I had to grab Catra, and she was pretty close to them, they never made a move. I think whatever they can do really only affects Catra. Even on Krytis, they never actually _hurt_ any of us. Just tried to scare us.” Glimmer looks satisfied at that. 

“Okay, so Catra, you stay out with Bow, and Adora and I will go in and see how Melog reacts. It’s worth a shot. Plus, I have a few spells that might be able to read what’s going on at a magical level.” Catra glances at Bow, who gives her a supportive smile and a thumbs up. She rolls her shoulder into half a shrug and tries not to focus on how Melog is only lashing out at her, and all the reasons she deserves it. She has to move past that, for their sake. 

They walk in silence for a few tense minutes longer. Catra’s and Adora’s hands sliding together almost automatically, an instinct remaining from childhood, a protection against all who’d harm them. Bow seems lost in thought. Glimmer is glaring at the walls, and the floor, and Catra wonders if she’s going to bring up the marks from earlier after all. Instead, the queen stops sharply, and holds up her hand for the group to follow suit.

“I knew something wasn’t right.”

It takes Catra half a second, but she quickly notices what Glimmer has; they’re nowhere near Adora’s room. In fact, they’re down by the mess hall, even though they took the direct route and it only took Catra and Adora a handful of minutes to reach the throne room in the first place. The squad glances at each other, and Adora has to quickly move out of the way as a confused guard nearly runs into her while exiting.

Catra reaches out, and gingerly tests the wall at the same time Glimmer does the same with the doorway. It’s certainly the mess hall.

“Not an illusion,” Bow says, watching the pair of them. Catra wrinkles her nose, smelling food. Certainly not. “But I don’t know how we got down here.”  
“Melog’s illusions _were_ extremely realistic,” Glimmer notes, her brows furrowed in thought. Catra’s tail twitches as she thinks back to what she’s seen Melog do.

“Obviously they can go invisible, and when I move with them I feel like I’m going even faster than normal, but I’m pretty certain they teleported towards me as well at least once on Krytis. Maybe they did that with us?” she muses aloud. 

“Maybe this is their way of telling us to have lunch first?” Adora tries to joke, as they move out of the doorway when another group leaves. Glimmer voices the thought none of them can shake. 

“I think this is their way of telling us they don’t want to talk to us. Whatever is going on, whatever we need to find out, we’re on our own, now.”


	3. Chapter 3

The mess hall was one of the areas that reminded Catra of the place she still thinks of as home. It almost always has people coming in and out for food, even in the small hours of the night when the night shift operates and a single sleepy cook manages the food. Rows of tables for groups to sit together, a counter where whatever meal is for the day is partitioned out. But it’s different too, brighter and in shades of pinks and lavenders rather than Horde Green, and with actual meals rather than a few variants of rations and simple drinks with powders mixed in. Seats are padded, walls are decorated.

Different, too, is Glimmer and Adora not just cutting to the front of the line because they’re more important. While the Horde technically ran on strict rules, the higher up in the hierarchy you were, the less you had to follow the ones your subordinates did. It was exactly why Catra thought she wanted to be on top, once. When you’re on top, no one can make you do anything.

No one _made_ Glimmer or Adora do anything, not really, but they still lined up and of course insisted on waiting. It would be wrong to say they didn’t get preferential treatment in most places, especially Adora. Catra has appreciated some of that too, with all these parties. And she can’t imagine that every soldier can go into a palace kitchen and get cake during a war. Still, watching Glimmer and Adora wait for their food with everyone else said more about the rebellion than any of their impassioned speeches ever could. Talk was cheap when you’re hungry. 

Adora does get three helpings of sandwiches and buns and weird fruit. Bow and Catra stick to a sandwich, and Glimmer gets extra buns. As they slide into place at an empty table, Catra pokes a claw slowly into the soft bread before trying a little. It was good, rich and delicious, the strange meat tender and the bread lighter than anything she’d had in her old life. It barely feels like real food. Everything here was too good. 

“Hey.”

Catra looks up to meet with beautiful, blue-grey eyes. Adora gives her a gentle smile. “It’s going to be okay. I promise we’ll figure this out.” Catra nods, taking another bite, and chewing it slowly, her tail snaking around Adora’s leg, quiet permission for her girlfriend to pay attention to her food and not to Catra.

“If we really want to, I could probably just dispel Melog’s magic and we can still try talking to them,” Glimmer suggests, her mouth full and her hand gesturing with a bun half as big as her head. Catra grimaces, and swallows her bite. 

“Yeah, because backing someone in a corner and making them talk works so well.” She drums her claws on the perfect table. Adora bumps into her with a shoulder, rough and friendly. 

“Worked with you, a lot of times,” she points out, her expression knowing, and Catra can see the faint marks on her pale skin where frantic claws lashed out in the past. She shudders, and looks away, ears flicking down. 

“It… I don’t know how they feel though. What I want and what they want? I don’t know the difference.” she mutters, voice low, spine crawling with nervous shame. 

Bow frowns, looking between his friends, brows furrowed. Finally, he suggests, “Why don’t we make this a research afternoon and if Melog is still hiding, we try Glimmer’s idea. It might help them to know we care enough to try?” Catra frowns at her meal. Bow was being reasonable, and she hated that, and loved that. Always compromising. 

“Ugh, you’re just like Scorpia,” she blurts out. Bow chuckles, flexing an arm with a cocky smile that just looks goofy on his sweet face.

“Why, thank you, I have been working out more. Have to keep this body.” he says, smugly. 

Catra sticks out her tongue. “You know what I mean! Always trying to help everyone get along. So damn nice!”

“All that and muscles too? I knew you were consort material,” Glimmer says with a knowing smile of her own. Laughter surrounds the table, and this, too, is unlike eating back in the Horde. Relax too much and you might lose your meal. You might attract the wrong sort of attention. 

“It’s not a bad idea, though. We don’t even know if Melog feels emotions like we do,” says Glimmer, thoughtfully. Adora looks aghast, and blurts out, “Glimmer! They’re not some sort of _robot!_ ”

“Even if they were, I think at least Emily has feelings,” Catra says, finishing half of her sandwich. “I apologized to her and she seemed happier? It’s weird, but I think Entrapta’s been rubbing off on me.” She glances around the busy room, the old instinct to protect herself, now used to allow her mind to collect her thoughts. She remembers back to the night of the deep purple sky, speckled with stars, and her quiet words with her strange friend.

“They described before meeting me like they were sleepwalking. Empty. They made it sound like.. I somehow woke up their emotions? Fuck, why does everything have to be complicated?” Catra groans, and drags her claws over the table in frustration. Glimmer slaps her hand, muffling out some annoyed command through a full mouth. 

“We don’t know what Melog’s people are. They MIGHT be some sort of organic robots. Even the place we were in on Krytis is up in the air. Was that something they built, or was that more First Ones tech from the colony they set up?” Bow theorizes aloud. 

“Reminded me of Horde Prime’s place, more. He loved his stupid long corridors.” Glimmer grumbles through another mouthful of food.

“First Ones! That’s it, we can talk to your dads! Maybe the library has something about Krytis in it!” Adora says, nearly knocking over her drink in her excitement before Catra’s hand whips out to keep it upright. Adora gives her a little sheepish smile, carefully moving the glass further away from her swinging arms. Catra has to stifle a purr of fondness at that, the sharp possessive feeling of her past turned warm and soft. Her big dumb muscle head, so excited to help. Catra loves her so much. Her tail tip brushes up and down Adora’s calf to broadcast her silent approval. 

“That’s a great idea! The amount of work the First Ones did on Krytis must have taken centuries, millennia. It might have started while they were still on Etheria. I bet something’s buried in all those scrolls there. Maybe Lance and George have even heard of it.” Bow enthuses along with her. 

“Knowing your dads, they might have assumed it was some sort of First One’s bathing ritual.” says Glimmer with a wink, swallowing her last bite. "But I agree, we should check there first. Catra?" 

"Yeah, sounds as good a place to start as any. We can't exactly zip back to Krytis for the afternoon." Catra drawls, tapping thoughtfully on the table with her claws before pulling them back. "Looks like it's your mission this time, Adora."

“Perfect! To the library!” Adora says, dramatically standing and flinging her arm out. Which knocks the glass she’d moved right into Glimmer. As the queen of Bright Moon sputters in shocked anger at some purple drink soaking into her clothes and Arrow Bow tries frantically to dry it in a manner suitable for public consumption, Catra just grins, leaning back and finishing her sandwich. Licking her claws clean, she looks over the tableau of idiots. 

“If I’m going to meet your parents, Arrow Boy, think I can borrow a new shirt? Oh, and maybe your girlfriend might want to change too. I don’t know what you two weirdos are into.”

* * *

“How do you even _find_ this place?” Catra asks, swatting a vine out of her way and shredding it with her claws. The air clings to her skin, thick as syrup, and it pushes her to move forward. Like a current of a river, she can feel herself flowing towards...where? This library? She hopes Bow actually knows where they’re going as he moves with such confidence through the tangled forest. Placing her hand flat against one of the trees, she shivers as her fur rises and falls flat. The Whispering Woods felt especially alive today, and she swears she can see the vine she cleared away slowly growing back. The path behind them looks even thicker with ferns, and as she watches, a strange, deer-like creature with three azure eyes steps out to glance at them, before carrying on into the deeper forest. Still, it doesn’t feel dangerous. Just vivid and lively. 

“I grew up there, Catra.” Bow reminds her, ducking around a branch. “Lance and George definitely picked the woods to keep us safe, though. It’s easy to find the library if you know the way, but I don’t think I ever remember anyone showing up without being told it was there.” Bow says, walking with easy strides, his hand in Glimmer’s. She did change into another clean version of her outfit, and Bow had kept his uniform on as well. Adora couldn’t change, what with their room off limits, and it was hard enough to get her out of her Horde-style outfits as it were. Only Catra had chosen something more casual when she had to pick something to wear, borrowing one of Bow’s loose shirts. White and simple, with a hint of gold trim. Catra tended to lean towards earth tones, sunsets and blood and rust, but Bow’s non-military wardrobe was pastels. At least they could agree on this, though. Catra thinks of it as the She-Ra colours.

Catra slots her hand back into Adora’s as they follow along. “S’funny, these woods were the scariest place when we were younger, but compared to now? The old Whispering Woods seems boring.” Adora says, plucking a glowing flower from one of the trees and slotting it behind one of Catra’s ears. 

“I’m sorry, you found burning puffballs that melt through anything and giant bug monsters boring? Sure, princess.” says Catra with a laugh, her tail dragging past a strange plant whose leaves tinkle like a wind chime. 

“It _is_ pretty different from when I was a kid,” Bow notes, watching a pair of glimmering squirrel-like creatures with wings flit past. “But it still feels like home. And speaking of home…”

Catra squints as they break out of the dimly lit forest into the sun. Before them is a building covered in tangled roots and vines. There’s even a fully grown tree on the roof, not an unusual site in the world after the Heart’s magic was freed, but still unexpected. Leaves drift down from overhanging boughs, and the only sound is the hum of late summer insects. It reminds Catra of all the old ruins in the forest, choked with foliage, strange and old. It feels still, abandoned, and Catra leans into Adora as the group approaches. 

The rest of the group has no such compunction, and Bow opens the door to a massive, vaulted room, lined with books and strange old objects under glass cases and on shelves. The gigantic old ruin of a place looked neat and modern inside, so clean and crisp that Catra finds herself wiping her paws as they cross the threshold. 

“This is a library? I thought that room with books at the palace was a library! This is huge!” Catra blurts out. Her eyes land on a massive vase with a huge crack that had been neatly repaired, with a picture of She-Ra on it. She leans in to give it a closer look. “A dragon? Have you been holding out on me, Adora?”

“Uuuugh, I wish. I want a dragon, but apparently only Mara got one.” Adora groans, slumping on the spot. 

“Lance! George! We’re here!” calls Bow. He drapes an arm around Glimmer before adding, “And the reason this library is so big is my dad and all my brothers are big time historians. Every time they find something new about the First Ones, it ends up in here.” He gazes proudly around the room. 

“All of them? What happened with _you_ , Arrow Boy?” Catra asks with a grin. “Flunked out of historian school?”

“Our little baby boy decided to become a fighter!” says a bright, happy voice that reminds Catra of Bow, but even more so. From one of the side doors, a pair of older men enter, one carrying a pitcher and an armful of glasses, and the shorter one going to hug Bow and Glimmer warmly. 

“It’s so good to see you two again,” he says, before smiling at Adora. “And Adora! You all really need to visit us more often. What’s the point of the war being over if we can’t see you more frequently than a few times a year.” His eyes fall on Catra, and she straightens up. “And this must be Catra.” His gaze is stern and she tries not to shrink down under it. She can’t help dropping her eyes from his after a moment, focusing instead on his graying mustache.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” the tall one says. Instead of going over to hug Bow and Glimmer, he approaches Adora and Catra, grasping Catra by the shoulders before dragging her into a hug. “Oh, Bow was right, you are adorable!” he coos, ruffling her ears, and she makes a note to smuggle a dead fish into Bow’s bed later. “I’m Lance, and this is my handsome husband George.” he explains, letting her go to hold her at arm’s length, a broad smile on his face. His hair is done the same way Lonnie used to keep hers, and his eyes are bright, almost manic, behind his glasses. She tries to politely back out of his grip, a nervous smile crawling across her face.

“Let the poor girl go, Lance, she’s clearly not… _feline it._ Ah hahaha ha” says apparently George, and like that, the sternness is gone, replaced with a goofy expression that reminds Catra of Adora. Catra winces, but luckily she’s released. She smooths down her fur and straightens her top back out. Lance apparently feels the same way about the humour, and groans softly, before going to give Adora a quick squeeze. 

“Go have something to drink and eat, first. If you don’t, Lance will lose his mind.” George says, gesturing to some long bench like seats. “Bow said you needed to do some more First One’s research?”

“Oh my gosh, _the snacks!_ ” yelps Lance, letting Adora go and dashing out of the room with a surprising turn of speed, through the door almost before Catra can register him going. 

“He’s… energetic?” she tries. George sighs, watching him go, and nods.

“He certainly is. He’ll be back in a moment, and then you can tell us what you’re looking for.”

“We did just eat…” Bow starts as they move to the seats, but Adora elbows him sharply. 

“Shhhh, snacks!” she whispers loud enough that Catra is positive George hears her. Catra takes a seat and rolls her eyes at Bow in commiseration before reaching for a glass. Looking up, she realises she’s pinned again to the couch by George’s sharp gaze.

“So, Bow tells me you used to be in the Horde?” he asks, and Catra feels her heart start to pound. She nods, stiffly, suddenly wishing she was back in the forest. The air in here feels too clean, too still, the room too silent and large. 

Bow laughs awkwardly as he glances between his father and Catra. “Yes, but she did a lot of good things with us at the end of the war. She even saved the world! And Glimmer!” Catra can hear Glimmer playfully saying something to Bow over his wording but her eyes can’t leave George’s dark, piercing ones.

“I don’t suppose he told you about my past, about how the Rebellion failed my town and I lost everything to the Horde, before he was even born?” 

Surely he can’t be blaming her for _that,_ Catra wonders, panic rising in her throat, her tail slashing against the cushions. That wasn’t her! She’s younger than Bow, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair! She tries to respond, but her throat feels too dry to stop him as he carries on.

“The Princesses and their war and their fighting took everything from me. They let the Horde take everything I had and then retreated to their palaces. But…” Catra’s ears flick up, the word as sudden as a thunderclap, loud over even her pounding heart. “I learned to trust Bow’s judgement, and try to trust in them again, and now princesses are practically my family. So if anyone gives you a hard time, young lady,” he fixes her with a glare, “They can come speak to me first. I don’t let anyone speak badly of my family. Princesses or former Horde soldiers.”

Catra’s jaw drops, and she can feel the tension leave the room. Adora breathes out with a dramatic "whew", and Glimmer says, “Man, you have it easier than I did when I first met them. Bow was so convinced they’d kick us out I had to pretend to be a historian.” Bow leans over to give Catra a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Family?” she finally chokes out, shocked. These men had barely met her! 

“Faaaamily!” sings Lance’s bright voice behind her, and she jumps as he reaches over the couch to place a huge bowl of cookies in front of her. “We already have 13 kids, what’s three more? Glimmer is practically our daughter already as it is!” Catra can feel the glow of Glimmer’s blush from here when that’s brought up. 

“Besides, who wouldn’t want a cutie like you in their family?” Lance finishes. He ruffles her ears once more, and she flushes darkly, embarrassed and overwhelmed by the affection. She tries to hide it by grabbing a cookie and shoving it in her mouth. It was, unsurprisingly, amazing. Adora leans over her to grab a handful for herself and Glimmer helps herself to the drinks, warmly thanking the two men, her cheeks still pink.

“So, what do you kids need from us today?” George asks, as Lance goes to stand behind him. Adora tries to speak with her mouth full, but Bow takes over.

“When we were in space, we encountered an old First Ones colony from a long time ago, and we need to see if there’s any more information on it. We were hoping it might have been old enough that it ended up mentioned somewhere in all this.” Lance’s eyes, impossibly, seem to sparkle even more brightly, and he squeaks in an undignified way.

“Oh. My. Goodness! George, can you even imagine? Untouched First Ones ruins on another planet?!” he gasps, and George pats his hand lightly. He smiles indulgently at his excited husband, and Catra feels a pang of envy before remembering she, too, can have that now.

“The planet’s called Krytis,” Catra says, taking another cookie. “When I was… exposed to Horde Prime I found out about it. And when we visited we found one survivor…”

“A First One!” gasps Lance, and Bow shakes his head. 

“No, one of the original people of the planet, an alien called Melog,” he corrects. “Krytis was dead, hollowed out from the inside and ruined, so they came with us back here. They’re Catra’s closest friend, besides Adora.”

Were they? Catra wonders. When she has to come here to research them to even learn the basics of who they actually were? But she bites back her self-loathing long enough to nod. Adora wraps her arm comfortingly around Catra’s shoulders. 

“Melog’s suddenly acting different, and we’re trying to find out why. We’re hoping that maybe Krytis is somewhere in here? The colony seemed really old when we visited. I mean, they mined almost all the magic from the planet, that had to take a long time…”

Lance and George are now the ones that look slightly uncomfortable. Catra wonders how much, even with all these books, they actually knew about the First Ones and how they acted. Turning people like Adora into weapons. She presses against Adora, angry at a race long gone, her tail curling protectively around Adora’s waist.

“I _have_ seen the name in a few places. Not as many as Serenia, but it's certainly been easier to sort through these with Adora’s advice on how to read the script,” George says, and Lance mutters ‘lunch’ which apparently means something, as everyone else laughs. She doesn’t pretend to understand the in-joke.

The drinks and cookies are finished while Lance eagerly goes to find them an absolute mountain of scrolls and books, piling them on the table as George clears their glasses, refusing help from Bow. Glimmer moans under her breath as she looks over the sheer volume of works, and Catra agrees. She hates paperwork so much. Still, this was important. She can put up with this, for Melog. Diving in, she picks up a scroll, glaring at the strange writing. Adora carefully takes it from her and turns it the right way up, before handing it back. Catra squints for a moment longer, but it makes no more sense this way up. Growling, she drops it back onto the pile.

“Fuck, I can’t read any of this stuff. How am I supposed to actually research?” she groans, glaring at the mound of illegible nonsense. 

“Adora hasn’t taught you any of the script?” Bow asks, looking through his own scroll and squinting. 

“No! We’ve been busy with other stuff!” she snaps in return, before flumping her head back and staring morosely at the ceiling. 

“I’m sure you have been,” Glimmer quips. “Honestly, though, only Adora can read this stuff as fast as Etherian. Maybe you can look through the illustrations and see if anything reminds you of Melog?”

Catra sits back up, and looks to Adora, who gives her a warm, encouraging smile. “It’s easy when you never had to learn,” she explains, but there’s just a hint of smugness. Catra can’t exactly blame her. There’s not a lot of scholarly things where Adora could honestly be said to excel over everyone else. Catra feels the warm glow of pride as Adora rapidly skims through a scroll and sets it aside. 

She picks a book at random and flips through. It’s mostly writing, but there’s diagrams too, and star charts, which Catra feels might be useful later. There’s a few graphs as well, and some illustrations, but nothing she could pin to Krytis. Nevertheless, she puts it down beside her for Adora to look over later. A few scrolls are just writing, so she leaves them on the table. Another book, and this one has more star charts, so it goes on her growing pile. A scroll with pictures of various plants that she can’t be sure are important. More writing…

Catra has no idea how long they’ve been at this. She can hear the others sigh in frustration as she’s sure she’s doing. Her back aches and she shifts to lay on the floor. At some point, Lance brings them more to drink and more items, apparently from the second floor. The pile doesn’t get any smaller and Catra isn’t helping matters. She can only look for things that would certainly be Krytis but can’t read anything to narrow down the stuff that isn’t. Catra opens another book, expecting at best a few diagrams, only to find many more pictures than usual, black and white like old woodcuts. She flicks back and forth, and pauses, before shoving at Adora’s leg, who tosses the scroll she was working on aside. 

“What’s up?” she asks, leaning down, her blonde hair starting to slip from her ponytail as the day carries on, her cheeks flushed. Catra passes the heavy tome to her.

“I think this might have something,” she says, hope faint in her voice. Catra sits up and the other members of the squad pause too. Bow’s slumped against the other couch and Glimmer is sitting on the floor as well, but they both straighten up, leaning forward. Adora skims through a few pages, and starts to smile.

“I think this is an atlas! But for colonies! Catra, this is going to be so useful!” she says, her eyes widening. “It’s like our files back at Bright Moon about the alliance. Imports, exports, population…” Catra perks up, leaning in to look. Now that she's looking for it, she can see how the page is broken up into headings and columns.

“Like the fact sheets we kept at the Horde. Any idea when it’s from?” she asks Adora, who shakes her head. 

“No, not really. Only that it’s from before Etheria was cut off. Probably. I can’t see anyone making a copy of this _after_ we were locked away. Aaaaand.. Yes! Krytis is in here!” Adora says, triumphant. She pushes a pile aside, and lays the book out over the table. 

Lance wanders over to check which book they have out, and clicks his tongue thoughtfully. 

“We always assumed this was related to myths and mythical places,” he admits. “Or that some of these were the names for old kingdoms here, that were long gone. Honestly, it was nearly impossible to imagine hundreds of actual worlds outside of Etheria before last year.” he says, almost apologetic. Catra would have felt the same way, not too long ago. Planets like islands strung out over the ocean of space? It seems like a fairy tale, until you see them in person.

They all wait silently as Adora reads through the stuff on Krytis. Seeing her concentrate like this, eyes squinting in, just a hint of her tongue sticking out, makes it hard for Catra to restrain herself from flopping all over her girlfriend and demanding attention of her own. Not in front of Lance, though. She purrs softly, keenly watching Adora as she works, only to see her expression cloud over and change.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, looking at the entry and then back at Adora.

“Melog’s not in here.” Adora replies, her voice soft and worried, and Catra laughs.

“Well, duh, Melog _specifically_ isn’t going to be in there.” she purrs, a teasing grin on her lips. Adora sharply shakes her head, pointing at a passage, as if that would mean anything to Catra. 

“No, see? There’s stuff on imports, exports, the resources of the planet, the weather. But nothing about the people.” Adora flips back to check other pages, and then back to what Catra has to assume is Krytis. The woodcut doesn’t look like the world they found. The ‘forest’ it shows seems more like an undersea landscape, with some sort of structure in the middle. “Other colonies, there’s usually SOMETHING about the natives, but not Krytis. It’s so weird.”

“That can’t be right..” Bow mutters, as Glimmer leans forward to see what Adora has been pointing out. Frowning now herself, Catra starts passing Adora other books, the ones with the star charts. They also talk about Krytis, apparently, as do many of the ones with graphs. The group moves faster now, aggressively skimming for books about exports and trade and space. Lance starts helping as best he can as well, narrowing down what he brings them. George soon joins them too, removing the books and scrolls as they rule them out. Krytis comes up again and again.

Each mention talks about how important the world was, how rich and useful. The lands and the seas and the rocks and the core. There was a steady stream of valuables sent all over the First Ones’ vast empire from the tiny world, minerals and ores and other strange things with strange names that none of them can even imagine the use of. But the conspicuous absence was clear, like a missing tooth that nags and begs to be bothered.

For all the talk of Krytis, not a single word mentioned Melog’s people. For all their power and magic, it was like they never existed at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in and I finally noticed the spelling error in the story description...  
> This is so sad, Darla play "Despacito"


	4. Chapter 4

The Whispering Woods were even more magical by the time they had finished their research, and while Lance and George had asked them to stay for dinner, the group couldn’t put off returning to Bright Moon any longer. It had been tempting. Relax in the evening in the library, surround themselves with laughter and warmth. But the unspoken cloud over them, of why they had come in the first place, wouldn’t allow Bow to be cajoled into staying any longer, and he was the only person the fathers had any real emotional sway over. 

They did pile the friends with books to take home, including the atlas, though George made them promise to treat them with care. They also were sent home with even more snacks. Apparently Lance had a bad baking habit and George was happy that finally one of their kids had visited to take home some goodies and get them out of the house. Catra starts to head back to the path, balancing her share of the books in her arms, but Glimmer grabs her shoulder, and before she can register what’s happening, they’re back at Bright Moon. Catra’s stomach flips and she staggers, before turning sharply back to glare at the queen.

“You have to warn me, Sparkles!” she snaps, her tail flicking in embarrassment as the other friends, far more used to traveling like that, laugh at her in a way that she still has to fight the sting of. They were her friends and it was funny, she has to remind herself. They still respected her. The mantra repeats itself in her head. It was slowly getting easier. Still, Glimmer had to stop doing that to get a rise out of her. Blinking like that always disorients her in a way that doesn’t seem to affect the others, though she’s getting better with it now. She wonders if Adora felt queasy too, when she first arrived and started getting moved around the planet by magic. She’s become so much more aware of where she is, she thinks, the heavy magic’s constant presence sitting in the back of her mind and giving each inch of Etheria its own feeling. Catra’s always had a good sense of direction, but now, places feel as familiar to her as knowing every corner of the Fright Zone did, the subtle changes in scent and sound and colour and texture of the magic soaked air in any given room as personal as a fingerprint. Getting torn from one place to another sends her body in a spin, these tertiary senses panicking before they understand where they now are. 

“Nope, you and Bow had too much to carry,” Glimmer explains briskly, as Bow starts to put down his collection and Catra realises they’ve been blinked to Glimmer’s personal chamber. She sets her own stack down beside Bow’s, carefully wrangling an escaping roll and looking around. She has to admit, Glimmer’s room is her favourite outside of hers and Adora’s. The second she saw the bed hanging 10 feet up off the floor, she immediately felt a kinship to the magic user. Plus, it always left the rest of the room free for whatever nonsense the best friend squad got up to. Catra is positive the guards, and Aunt Castaspella, don’t understand why they would drag old sleeping mats and blankets onto the floor to hang out when they could have servants move beds in here for their sleepovers, but it was another thing that helped her feel at home in the palace. These little personal touches that tells her Glimmer is still, at heart, a person and not just a ruler.

“ _And_ if we walked back Adora would have eaten all the pastries before we got home.” Glimmer adds, glancing over at Adora pointedly. Adora freezes, one already in her mouth, and swallows slowly before muttering, “I just wanted one.” Catra chuckles herself now, the balance of humour changing, as do Bow and Glimmer. Even Adora is grinning. Reaching out, Catra rescues one for herself, a buttery, flaky thing she’s going to have to learn the name of, and takes a bite, the food easing her stomach. 

“So, should we take those to the kitchen?” Bow asks, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he looks at his girlfriend, and no one is surprised when she says, sharply, “No! No, that’s... fine, we can leave them in here.” Another chuckle from the group that slowly dies away. A silence fills the room, and everyone seems waiting for someone else to break it.

“Hey, we don’t have to do my plan if we don’t want to,” Glimmer finally says, quietly, to the room in general, but Catra knows that’s directed at her specifically. She realises she’s started rubbing her arm, and drags her hand away, clenching it at her hip. Her tells had become so much more open in this place. Or maybe she’s just around people who care enough to notice when she’s distressed. She flashes Glimmer a tight smile of gratitude.

“No. No, Adora was right. I _did_ want people to find me when I got bad. It’s about time I put my neck out too. What’s the worst that can happen?” she asks, with a little, brittle laugh. No one answers, since they all know she has her own litany of what the worst things are. Bow runs an arm around her to give her a squeeze into his side for a moment, and she leans gratefully into him. “Don’t you start rubbing my ears,” she growls. He laughs, low and gentle.

“Want me to ask Lance to ease off on that? He just really likes you.” he checks, and she shakes her head, looking at the floor, her tail twining around her own calf.

“No. Dads get a pass. You don’t, though, Arrow Boy, so don’t push it.” She can feel him nod, the tension of his muscles as they change. He's almost as warm as Adora, and Catra can see why Glimmer would cling. Besides the obvious, of course.

“So, you stick with me while Glimmer and Adora go into the room?” Bow confirms, but Catra carefully pulls away, frowning. That _had_ originally been the plan, but she's had time to reconsider.

“No. I’ll go in.” she says, her voice firm in spite of her racing heart. She’s glad only she has the ears to pick up on that. Adora reaches for her hand, and she gratefully accepts, squeezing tight. They exchange a look, and Adora’s face changes as she peers into Catra’s eyes, jaw setting in firm determination. Her heart is racing too, another secret only Catra is privy to. 

“We’ll both go in, then.” she says to Glimmer, who nods, flexing her fingers and popping the joints like an athlete preparing for a race. The group leaves as a unit, turning left to look down the hall. In theory, the shared room was a few doors down from Glimmer’s (another reason the Queen wasn’t thrilled with Catra’s tendency to mark everything with her claws), though a few doors down in this palace was a lot longer walk than a few doors down in a normal building. It shouldn't be nerve wracking, but Catra can feel the tension of the group, hear every pulse change. Glimmer reaches out, and Catra can see her fingers shimmer where they hit something in the air, only a few feet away. Her expression tightens, and she presses a bit more, before pulling back. 

“Right. Get ready, then.” she says, tersely. A few smooth motions draw shining magenta circles in the air, full of shapes and lines. They spread out, filling the hall from edge to edge, and seem to strain for a second, before vanishing. Catra can’t see the difference, but she can feel it, like a window opening to allow fresh air into a room. She can sense, somehow, the flow of magic no longer blocked by Melog’s own natural abilities. As they step forward, she expects a new barrier to snap up, her fur on end, hyper aware now of any changes, but nothing comes. And just like that, within a few strides, they can see the room, in the same place as always, scratches on the walls beside it, a few scuffs on the woodwork of the doors. It all feels so normal, so normal in fact that Adora reaches out to pull open a door, before her hand pauses, and changes the motion into a knock instead.

“Melog?” she calls out, worry hanging on the word. Silence. Glancing at Catra, they both open the doors together.

The room is a disaster. The mattress and pillows are shredded, feathers scattered all over the floor, which has deep claw marks grooved so heavily they threaten to trip an unwary person. The comfortable cavern that the silk curtains made around their bed is now hanging in tatters, the ring above swinging at a drunken angle. Furniture is knocked over, papers scattered. She hears Glimmer enter behind them and stop as well, a soft gasp slipping from her lips.

Catra’s heart jumps into her throat as she peers under the bed. At first, the void seems bare, there’s certainly no menacing red eyes or dark presence of Melog filling the space. But after a moment, her eyes land on two tiny blue orbs, barely visible. Letting her hand slip from Adora’s, she moves close, kneeling down before sitting flat on the floor beside the bed. Adora starts to come with her, but Catra mouths ‘wait’. She has to be the one to do this, she feels in her bones. She slides her hand under the bed, palm out, and waits for a moment. The eyes shift, but don’t move.

“It’s alright, Melog. I’m not mad. You’re not in trouble.” Catra says, feeling the words coming to her from the echoes of her own past. How many times had Adora done this with her, reaching out, indifferent to the claws and anger? How many times has Catra heard these words spoken? How many more times would she need to hear them, even now?

Slowly, Melog slips forward, until their head rests on Catra’s hand, small as a housecat now. Catra carefully rubs a thumb over their cheek, trying to sooth, and there’s a soft, pitiful _mrrow_

 _I've done wrong._ Melog says, the voice almost as tiny as their form, but Catra suspects, given their bond, this was more related to how Melog felt rather than how Melog looks. She looks up at Adora, who moves closer to sit as well, cross legged, beside the ruined bed. Catra returns her focus to Melog, just trying to be present, her fingers rubbing their neck.  
  
“Is everything…” she hears Bow start to ask, too loud in the quiet room, and then there’s a hushed conversation and the great doors close, leaving her and Adora to themselves. She’ll have to thank Sparkles for that later. 

“You haven’t done anything bad, buddy. Really. We just got worried.” Catra assures the tiny and embarrassed Melog. They look like how shame felt for her after her outbursts. Small, reduced, pathetic, trying to hide while at the same time begging to not be abandoned, because they didn’t mean it, they never meant it to go that far. As she thinks it, Melog echoes that thought, because now Catra knows it is what they are feeling as well.

_Don’t hate me._

“I’d never hate you. Do you want to come out? Say hi to Adora? She loves you too, you know.” Catra says, her voice soft, trying not to crack as tears restrained sting her throat. There’s another small mrrp, and Melog comes out to curl on her lap. They tuck into a circle, and go silent. Catra strokes over their back in soothing passes. 

“Are you feeling better now?” Adora asks, her voice so gentle that Catra’s heart aches at how good her girlfriend is, how understanding. Perfuma has helped Catra, as have others, with how she interacts with people. But for kindness, for a true open heart? For that, Adora will always be her role model. Another soft mrrp comes from Melog.

_A little better._

Catra’s not perfect, though, and probably never would be, so she can’t stop herself from asking, “Was it something I did? Something about our bond?” 

_**No!** It is not related to that. You did not hurt me, Catra. _Melog says, pressing into her stomach, sounding distressed. _The feelings have become different, though. I do not understand._

“Different?” Catra wonders. Those feelings she felt seemed a lot like ones she had a lot more frequently when she first met Melog. They shouldn’t be feeling them THIS badly now. At least, she would hope not. 

“What’s Melog saying?” Adora asks, shifting closer. Catra’s ear’s flick and her tail moves to wrap around Adora’s waist. 

“That they’re sorry, but give me a moment, I’m trying to find out,” she murmurs, returning her attention to the alien. “Different how?” she asks Melog, feeling bad for pushing, yet at the same time, knowing she has to. Adora had been right, before. Pushing was something she herself needed, as long as it was done delicately, and it might be something Melog needs as well. Unfortunately, young Adora couldn’t sense when she’d pushed too far. Catra hopes she can have more wisdom than an 8 year old, but some days she wonders. Still, Melog’s paws flex against her leg, kneading instead of clawing, and they take the question gracefully.

 _It is hard to explain. It was frightening when you arrived and I could see it was not your feelings, because then, whose are they? Surely they came from something. And they were so much more than I am used to. They hurt! Feelings should not cause so much pain._ Melog softly wails, their tone mournful, confused. _I do not understand what caused them to appear!_

“Melog doesn’t know what made them upset,” Catra relays to Adora, before focusing on the tight ball of alien on her lap. Melog feels heavy there, but it’s a good sort of weight. She tries to remember what Perfuma does with her at these times, taking her through what caused her mind to go down its dark paths.

“When did you start to have these feelings, Melog? Do you remember?” she asks, her hand still running down their spine, her stroking not stopping. Melog becomes silent once more, but she gives them time to answer. The wait stretches out in the room, the sound of the waterfall, and Adora’s calming heart filling the silence. And a purr, her own, one she hadn't realised she'd started. The tone was soothing, one she's used with Adora on her worst night since the war. Melog shifts under her hand and turns to lay on their side, soaking up the attention, their body gently unwinding from the tight spring of tension it was under. She keeps petting them.

_If I am to be honest, it started to change once we talked on the roof several nights ago. But these changes were subtle. I found myself thinking about what I desired to do at any given time, but it did not feel as it should? I felt alone, but not in a frightening way._

“You’ve spent time alone before,” Catra can’t help but remark. She’s no therapist, after all, and restraining her own comments is difficult. 

_Not alone physically. But in my head. Sometimes I felt like doing things and they were different things, strange things. I can’t explain. It felt right, like home, but also not what I have wanted before. I visited Swift Wind…_

“You visited Swift Wind?” Catra snaps out, unable to hide her surprise. She hates spending more time with Swift Wind than absolutely necessary, and though she knows Melog doesn’t mind them, she was unaware they were visiting each other. She takes a breath, and stops herself. This wasn't about her, this was about Melog, and the last thing they needed to hear was her opinion on their friends. Especially not when they were clearly distressed enough as it was. Shadow Weaver might have been garbage as a role model, but she works as a good example for what not to say to your suffering child. “Sorry, sorry, of course you can have friends and visit them without me. That’s normal. I’m not mad, I’m just surprised.” she quickly explains, trying not to panic at her mistake. 

“See, we should have spoken to Swift Wind,” Adora says, leaning into her with a smug look Catra can hear on her voice without having to turn her head to see it. Catra snorts and rolls her eyes, leaning back. Maybe. But she'd rather eat bugs than admit that.

 _It is NOT normal. We share ourselves, and you don’t visit Swift Wind, so why should I have started to want to?_ Melog laments. Catra feels a twinge inside when she hears that, her purring sputtering out as her mind races back.

“I asked you what _you_ wanted, Melog. Remember? Back that night? Is… hanging out with Swift Wind more something you want? Because I never wanted to stop you from doing that. Or anything else! I just didn’t know.” Catra says, trying to keep her own pleading from her voice, but unable to. Adora was wrong, she had been controlling Melog, or stopping them from doing what they wanted, it seems. Even if just in her own ignorance. Like back in the past, just doing what she wanted, and ignoring her friends' desires. Even her question that night was asked hoping nothing would change. But it had, and clearly Melog was suffering for it.

 _You did not! I just did not want to… and now I do. I don’t understand what has changed. We share everything, don’t we? I am happy with what we have, you must believe this!_ Melog says, and she can hear her own pleading reflected in their voice. Please don’t hate this. Please don’t hate that I am not what you want, it says. Catra pauses her stroking to cup under their tiny chin and their head up so she can look into those blue eyes. Let me be a good friend, she begs whatever spirit might be listening. Let me find the right words. Stars, she doesn’t want to mess this up.

“Melog, it’s normal to want different things. Adora and I love each other very much but we’re different people, and some of the things she likes to do are boring as fuck to me, and that’s fine. Same for me, she doesn’t enjoy some of the stuff I do. Adora and Swift Wind have their sacred fucking bond or whatever, but he’s his own person. He does his stuff and she does hers. It doesn’t mean they don’t care about each other. You’re allowed to want what you want, it can be different than what I want sometimes. You’re still my best friend.”

Melog looks at her, their gaze open and fearful. _I’m not broken?_ The question cuts Catra deeper than anything else could have, and her heart aches. She can’t restrain herself, and she grabs the small cat-shaped Melog to hug them tightly. 

“NO! You’re not! Don’t let anyone tell you you’re broken, Melog!” Her tears burn down her cheeks. Melog presses into her, as if to merge into her being, to be one with her heart, desperate for reassurance. “No matter how you feel, I’ll always be your friend. I won’t abandon you.”

 _Promise?_ Melog asks, the question hauntingly familiar.

“Promise,” she chokes out, and feels Adora wrap her strong arms around the both of them. 

“We both promise,” she adds, and Catra smiles through her tears. Her Adora. So loving. Melog deserves all that love too. She feels Adora tenderly kiss her crown, and she leans into her. “Can I pet you too, lil guy?” Adora asks Melog, and there’s a happy mrp as they look up and immediately press into her hand. 

“Still agree that we both like Adora, I see..” Catra teases, snuffing and passing a quick hand over her cheeks to clear the wetness away. Melog mrows, _Of course. She is wonderful._

“Even if you didn’t, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” says Adora, which is a damn lie. Catra knows Adora would be heartbroken if Melog started to hate her. Adora gives the little Melog another gentle caress. “People can like different stuff and have different friends, even though I wish _some people_ here got along better with Swift Wind.” Catra rolls her eyes. Fat chance there.

 _It is not natural for me…_ Melog notes, and Catra’s reminded of their research, their discussions. What _was_ natural for Melog, exactly? But that is a question best discussed later, she decides. That's a pressure that would go too far at the moment, and risk a scratch. Instead, she relays Melog’s words to Adora, and summarizes the rest of what they had said, though she gets the impression Adora picked up most of it from Catra’s side of the conversation. Slowly, Catra can feel Melog growing in her grasp, and she loosens it, until finally what they have all come to think of as ‘regular Melog’ is sprawling heavily over their laps, Adora stroking their back and Catra teasing through their mane. The rumbling yet tinny purr grows louder, and Catra can feel them melting into her as they relax. 

“Feeling better?” Catra asks, smiling gently. Melog mrps, pressing into her side.

 _Much. I apologize once more for my behavior,_ they say, and Catra sighs internally. She already said it was fine, didn’t she? Rubbing over Melog’s cheeks, she cups their head and bumps foreheads with them. They understood. They always do. 

“So, do you want to talk about what got you so upset today?” Catra tests, and Melog’s head grows more weighty, their eyes lowering. _No, not yet._ they murmur, and that’s also fine. She understands. Adora tickles down their spine, and they arch into her touch. They sit this way, silently, Catra resting against Adora and Melog resting over both of them, and allow the new calm to wash over them. The noises of the night birds outside the palace start to filter through over the sound of the waterfall, and Catra can smell the heady scent of the evening flowers in the garden opening. 

“I’m sorry too, Melog, that I didn’t notice you weren’t around until now,” Catra says, the guilt on that just a tiny prickle. Melog purrs and presses his head into her stomach for a moment. 

_I was on occasion, but you seemed to be doing so well, I felt it was safe for me to go out and explore these odd desires. The mistake was mine, not yours. I am faulty._ they say, and Catra bites her lip.

“No, you big goof, it wasn’t a mistake. I _did_ have a good week. Just maybe let me know if you want to go off somewhere? I’m not ready for us to be like Adora and her horse just yet. I’m gonna worry if I don’t know where you are.” Catra states, cutting off saying more, feeling greedy. She HAD been doing well this week, honestly. It made her feel good, in a way, that Melog thought she could handle things on her own. That it wasn’t that they were abandoning her. She was getting stronger, and Melog could see that. She _wants_ to ask Melog to stay with her more, to say she needs them. But in truth, she doesn't need them like she did when the war first ended, to monitor her reactions, to reassure her, to encourage. Some days, bad days, perhaps, but not everyday. It’s just that she really enjoys their company. It would be a lie to pretend otherwise.

“Swift Wind,” Adora corrects automatically, as if Catra didn’t know the horse’s name, which she does. Her tail tightens around Adora. She wonders if it's just easier for Adora not to worry about where Swift Wind is, or if her bond with her steed means she knows where he is if she wants to. Catra will have to talk to the damn horse soon. But not tonight. Tonight was just for them. There’s a soft, tentative knock on the door.

“Come in.” she calls, and isn’t surprised to see Glimmer and Bow, but she _is_ surprised about the blankets and sheets and pillows overflowing their arms. Glimmer pauses and sighs as she looks over the room. Catra recognises this particular flavour of sound, the ‘this is too much work’ sigh.

“Sorry, I thought this would be enough to fix up the room again so you all could sleep in here, but I didn’t exactly see how bad it was. We’ll have to get servants to change out the mattress and curtains instead tonight.” she explains, and Catra gives her a sharp look as Melog lets out a sad keening sound, their mane changing colour, not the ruby of Catra’s frustration, but a deeper violet. Melog's own emotion is broadcast this time, personal and intimate. Shame.

“Glimmer!” she hisses, and Bow comes to the rescue immediately, taking in the mood in an instant, seeing Melog's sorrow where their head hangs down. 

“Which is fine, _totally fine_ , it's not the first time we've had to have them fix up things. Adora killed her bed the first night, even, so you're just keeping up the tradition, hahaha. We’re just glad you’re feeling better, _right, Glimmer_ ,” he says, nudging her sharply at the last part. Her eyes widen and she immediately gives a worried little laugh, nodding quickly. 

“Of course! I was...just bringing these to suggest you guys could sleep in our room tonight!” she sputters out, and even Adora raises an eyebrow, her fingers playing through Melog’s nebulous tail. Melog perks up, their ears tilting forward, and Catra can feel their excitement when they hear that. She looks down at her alien friend.

“Want to join us for a sleepover tonight?” she asks, before quickly adding, “You don’t have to.” She has to make sure. It seems like Melog would like that, but she can't just assume. Not anymore. Melog ponders this and says, firmly, _I would like that. I have missed spending time with you, Catra_

“Yeah, I’ve really missed you, too,” Catra lets herself admit, ignoring the soft ‘awwww’ from Bow as she gives Melog’s neck a hug. When she lets go, they leap up to greet Bow and Glimmer as well, restating their apologies, which Catra translates with her own commentary. The others reassure Melog, Bow effusively and Glimmer politely, as Adora gathers things from their dresser and bathroom to take over to Glimmer’s. Catra hopes she’s the only one who can see the touch of trepidation on Glimmer’s face. She hopes Melog hasn’t picked up on it. She saunters over, wanting to cut off trouble before it starts.

“Trust me, this room isn’t any worse than mine got back home on a really bad day, your majesty,” Catra says, her tone flippant, her smile easy, letting her hand drop to rub through Melog's mane. Meeting Glimmer’s gaze dead on. Go on, it says, tell me you're worried Melog is unsafe now. Glimmer’s own look was firm, and out of the corner of her eyes, Catra can see Bow’s confusion at the energy in the exchange. He’s a good man, but he never could keep up with the two of them.

“I guess I should be grateful you’re having good days here then and only clawing up _half_ the floors,” she answers, just as airy, her posture backing down in subtle ways. We're not talking about this right now, it reads, but just you wait. Catra's fine with that. She doubts Glimmer will forget about this by the morning, but at least they won't be arguing about Melog in front of them.

"Are.. you two fighting?" Bow asks, glancing between them. They both turn to look at him, and Catra chuckles.

"Don't be stupid, Arrow Boy." she sneers, her tail flicking happily.

"Of course we aren't." Glimmer confirms. "Honestly, I love you, but if you can't tell what a fight is, I'm going to have to downgrade you from consort to pool boy." Catra squeaks out another laugh, and even Melog rumbles a chuckle of their own. 

The unspoken truce for the sleepover given, they all go to move their conversation down the hall, Bow and Glimmer with the bedding, and Adora with their towels and brushes and clothes and extra clothes, and Catra with Melog at her side. Melog does look much happier, and she hopes whatever was bothering them this morning will feel better after a soothing night with the group. Maybe then they will talk about it, maybe not. Catra admits she’s looking forward to being able to be with them too, both Melog and the others, and just let the day’s worries go. Eat some of those pastries, tease Bow about his new royal title, be disgustingly cuddly with Adora. She makes sure, though, to leave a nice long groove on the wall as they walk, just out of Sparkles’ view.

It was the principle of the thing.


	5. Chapter 5

It would be inaccurate to call Catra a naturally light sleeper. She certainly would have claimed to be, up until a few months ago. But now that Adora was around and she finally felt _safe_ , Catra could sleep so deeply that waking her in the morning was a struggle. Her body is learning that she doesn’t have to expect an attack every waking hour. There’s even a few incriminating pictures of a completely dead to the world Catra getting things piled on her head by the best friend squad before she was carried to bed, a boneless lump, by a She-Ra sized Adora. Bow swears he deleted his copies, but she knows Glimmer and Adora never will. 

And soon after her body learned it could just rest, Catra started to realise she’d been sleep deprived her entire life. Naps have become a true delight, and for all the others tease her on the phrasing, nothing is better than sleeping with Adora. Around the same time she discovered that she’d never had a proper sleep in her life, she realised she’d been just as touch starved. Adora had at least filled that gap somewhat when they were together in the past, but it was never enough. It was never allowed to be enough. As embarrassing as it was to think back on it, Scorpia had been right about Catra needing cuddles. 

Thankfully, that’s one thing her life in Bright Moon has in abundance now, and not just from Adora. So, when she awakens to find herself not only tangled with Adora, but with Glimmer’s legs draped over hers and Bow’s hand limply resting on her head, she merely stifles a soft purr as she gently extracts herself. Melog is sprawled at their feet, legs in the air, their mane a shimmering shadow in the moonlight, snoring in a way that apparently apes her own snores. If she ever did that. Which she refuses to admit to. 

Normally, it was just stresses of the day or nightmares that would wake her up now, no longer every small noise, every distant footfall or uncertain creak. But this time, it was because of other needs, which she quietly took care of, rinsing her hands twice to get the stink of Glimmer’s preferred soap off of them. Her stuff was too strongly scented for Catra’s sensitive nose. When she returns, she can see Glimmer is missing as well, the dent beside Adora that Catra left now a void separating her from Bow. The balcony would be obvious, but following that same sensitive nose, Catra slips out of her bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind her. She’s not surprised to see Glimmer waiting for her. Glimmer isn’t surprised to see her.

“We really doing this _now,_ Sparkles?” Catra asks, throwing in a yawn. Glimmer rolls her eyes.

“Can’t sleep properly. And if you go back to sleep I’m going to keep teleporting you out here until you stop,” she threatens. Catra’s tail flicks, and she snorts, smiling and moving away from the door. No need to wake the other three. 

“Fine. Spill,” she says, resting against the other wall. Even if Catra couldn’t see it, which she can as the moonlight through the hall windows might as well be a spotlight, she could feel how agitated Glimmer is. The air around her swirls with energy when she’s really upset, like a thrashing fish in a calm pond, causing eddies and waves. Even in a sloppy loose top and shorts, hair messy from slumber, the queen of Bright Moon manages to draw herself up and look imperious.

“Melog is dangerous!” she hisses out. Catra’s tail whacks the wall behind her. Lips thin into an expression that was much less neutral than earlier. She runs her tongue over her fangs in thought, tasting sourness inside her mouth. She knew Glimmer would say that, but she had expected it to be a bit of a dance to get there. She’s had time to think about this tonight, and she expects Glimmer has as well. The sleepover was good, it was fun, and it wasn’t like Glimmer had been anything less than warm to Melog. Nevertheless, if Catra could learn how to turn off her brain and enjoy herself completely, she’d have done so years ago. If Sparkles couldn’t sleep properly now, she probably had the same problem.

“Melog is exactly as dangerous as they were when we met them. No more, no less.” Catra says, her voice low, level. Glimmer waves that argument away with a sharp gesture, like swatting a fly.

“Melog when we met them was using illusions to wrap us around in circles. To spook us. But illusions didn’t tear up your room, Catra.” Normally, Glimmer calling Adora’s room Catra’s room as well would make her purr, just a little. Technically, she has her own room in the palace that she can still use, just in case her and Adora need space. Bow has the same thing, though he actually uses his and even sleeps there occasionally. Hers is empty except for the spare bed, closets bare and walls unadorned by her marks. She’s in no mood for purring right now, though. Her ears flick in agitation.

“I wasn’t kidding about doing that to my own quarters in the past, Glimmer. I could feel what Melog felt and it was rough. Ugly. I’m not surprised they freaked out. But they didn’t hurt anyone.” Which was more than she could say about herself, when she got into those moods. Back in the bad old days. She taps her claws against the wall behind her. “If it’s about the cost, you can take it out of my fucking salary. They’ve still left less scratches than I have.”

Glimmer gives a short, scoffing laugh. “Oh, believe me, we are _going_ to talk about those scratches at some point, Catra. I can’t keep repairing the damn walls! But you using my castle as a scratching post to piss me off isn’t the same as what they did! _You’re_ doing it on purpose.” 

Catra wrinkles her nose, and crosses her arms. The sour taste is speckled with pepper now, and she can feel Glimmer’s magic prickling over her fur. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Sparkles,” she says, her voice low and sardonic, “But wouldn’t that make what I’m doing _worse?_ You’re even admitting Melog didn’t destroy that stuff intentionally.”

Glimmer’s in her face so fast that Catra could have sworn she teleported there. Her eyes are so intense that it makes Catra’s ears pin back in shock before she can control them. Her voice is low and sharp and angry, and she’s close enough that Catra can feel her breath tickle her fur.

“You are allowed to act out, Catra, because you ARE controlling what you’re doing and we both know if you push it too far…” Glimmer seems to struggle to vocalise her feelings on that matter, because that was just it. Catra didn’t want to push it too far. Not to the point it wasn’t fun, not to the point of consequences neither of them wanted to think about. Even Glimmer seems to have realised things are spiraling close to a precipice. She takes a breath, and starts again, just a little calmer, though Catra can still feel the sharpness of every word like a claw at her throat.

“You are in control of every scratch here, Catra. You’re predictable. Obnoxiously so, sometimes. You chose to claw things up. Every single mark is a choice. But tell me, were you in control when you shredded your rooms back in the Horde?” The last sentence, delivered cold and deliberate, causes Catra to press into the stone behind her. That was an unexpected tack, and Catra’s tail slashes against her thighs. Normally, she’d probably drop her head in shame, but she’s practically pinned to the wall. Her eyes flick to look just past Glimmer’s own, her focus somewhere around her ear, an old trick from the past. 

“No. I wasn’t. But that’s not the same thing,” she says, her voice low, tone forced flat. She was so much worse than Melog, back then. They’re open and honest in ways she never was. They’ve only scarred a building, not people. “It’s… they’re different. It’s not like it was for… Melog had _one bad day,_ Glimmer. Fuck!” Unable to stop herself, her voice cracks as she sputters out the last words. 

Glimmer steps back, and Catra feels like she can breathe again. That oppressive pressure of Glimmer’s anger had felt like a weight against Catra’s chest in ways that were disturbingly familiar. She gives Glimmer a wary look, before going to smooth her hair and remembering that it’s not a mane anymore. Glimmer frowns, and looks away, and the prickles on Catra’s fur die down, though that strange vortex that Glimmer leaves in the magic around her doesn’t stop. She realises Glimmer had her own hands clenched, and is now sliding them flat over her clothes, wiping away sweat from her palms. 

“Catra, the reason we didn’t attack Melog back on Krytis and the reason we let them live here with us is because you could control them. Remember? But now....” Glimmer explains. Her tone is soft and apologetic, but the words make Catra’s ears snap forward. Ozone fills her taste buds, the scent of a thunderstorm makes her head swim. 

“I never wanted to control them, Glimmer! I never wanted to force them to be anything! And you know what fucking changed? I told them that! I asked them to do what THEY wanted! Melog’s not some fucking… TOOL!” she growls. She can feel her claws straining, aching as they extend to their limit. Glimmer narrows her eyes, her spine snapping up straight, all the softness of earlier vanishing.

“Oh, that’s real _nice_ , Catra, but I have to think about a bit more than just what you and Melog want. There’s over a hundred people living in this palace, and if I just let them do whatever the fuck they felt like here, even if it could kill someone, I’d be a shitty ruler!” Glimmer snaps back, and that prickle is back in the air, sharper than ever. 

“If they’re suddenly dangerous because they can think about what they want instead of being my _slave_ , then fuck you and fuck your entire palace!” Catra snarls, the anger too hot, too fast, every hair on her body standing on end. There’s a click that sounds extra loud in the shocked silence after that statement, and a soft creak. The bedroom door cracks open.

“Ugh, I thought this was going to wait until the morning,” a sleepy voice grumbles from behind Glimmer, and they both turn to see Adora in the doorway, groggy and holding a pillow in one hand, the other on Melog’s back. Melog’s mane is an agitated red again, their lips curled. Catra knows that this time, at least, that’s her own feelings they’re showing. Seeing her gaze, Adora gives her a tired smile, patting Melog on the head. 

“Melog woke me up, but really, they didn’t need to, because _some_ people started yelling at each other. In the hallway outside our room. At…” Adora frowns, and looks out the window, “Three hours before dawn. Could you guys argue more quietly?” She shoots them a sarcastic smile, and almost immediately the prickly sensation around her, the sharpness of the air, the twisting discomfort of the heavy magic, ceases. Catra’s arms drop limply to her side and her tail smooths out, and she flicks her ears as an embarrassed flush hits her cheeks. Glimmer looks as sheepish as Catra feels, smoothing her palms over her shirt again and tugging at the hem. Melog’s mane eases back to a teal with just a hint of rust. 

“I thought you said you guys weren’t fighting!” Bow groans, sounding pained as he stumbles from the bedroom himself, his own top threatening to slide up past the ab zone before he pushes it back down. Adora snort-laughs at that, looking particularly smug.

“Oh, no, they were obviously fighting before. Catra was doing that ‘Don’t mess with me because I’m very cool and smart’ thing she does, and Glimmer was all queening at her. It was pretty blatant.” Adora says, finishing with a yawn. She looks extremely pleased with herself. “Just didn’t know they rescheduled for the middle of the night. I was kinda expecting you both to slip out to the garden tomorrow and freak out at each other there.”

“This.. this is serious, Adora,” Glimmer sputters, her cheeks pink. “And you’re one to talk about blatant, you were the last one in this hallway to figure out Catra was madly in love with you, and that includes the alien we’d only just met at the time!” Catra can’t help grinning. Cool and smart, huh? She approves. Besides, Glimmer was just mad because Adora was right.

Melog murrs, _It was very clear to me, I am not sure why she had not noticed,_ to the group at large, though only Catra can understand. 

“C’mon, Sparkles. Let’s get out of the hall,” she suggests with a smile to Glimmer, feeling better, her anger deflating in the face of Adora’s sleepy disapproval. She looks at Melog, but there’s still a hint of ruddiness to their mane. Right. This was serious. “Come on, Melog. You too. We’ll talk about this inside.”

They shift back inside, and all sit back in the nest of blankets, Catra slipping into Adora’s open lap and Glimmer leaning against Bow, who looks the least prepared for all this. He wraps an arm around her and kisses her hair. 

“Could you two just make up and maybe we could sleep?” he asks gently. “You’re friends. Whatever it is, we can sort it out in the morning.”

“I apologize for … that,” Catra says, gesturing to the hall, vaguely. She’d let her anger take her past where she wanted to be. It happened a lot less these days, but it still happened. At least, so far, everyone was willing to wait for her to return from those places. Bow starts to relax, and Catra holds up a finger, stopping him.

“But no, Arrow Boy, we can't. I wanted to get to sleep ages ago, too, but we have to deal with this now." Catra sighs, smoothing her hair. There were still just too many things swirling in her head to let herself sleep, even if Glimmer had agreed to wait. "Better out than in, I guess.” she says, half to herself. Adora snorts, and Catra feels soft lips press a quick kiss of their own somewhere on the back of her head. 

“Gotta puke out those feelings?” Adora drawls, and Catra laughs, shocked out of her thoughts, trying to turn to elbow her terrible and perfect girlfriend. 

“Gross! No, shut up! Sparkles is right this is serious!” she gasps out, cheeks red.

“Sorry, I guess maybe you've got the feeling shi---” 

Catra manages to press her hands over Adora’s smirking mouth, and is greeted by an equally stupid look. “Shut up! You’re the worst and I will literally actually kill you if you say one more word, I swear!” she hisses out, trying to stop smiling and failing.

“Pretty sure if you haven’t done it by now, she’s safe.” Glimmer says with a laugh of her own. 

“Ugh, you’re right, that’s why she’s so cocky, she knows she’s too sexy to die..” Catra groans, dropping her hands. Adora’s eyebrow shoots up, and her expression grows even more annoying goofy.

“Oh, I’m too sexy, am I?” she says, in that lower register that she thinks of as her seductive voice. Catra growls, pushing her over before burying her face in her hands and screaming in frustration. How can anyone focus with these idiots?

“Guys, come on, as much as I love seeing you all getting along, I’m tired, so let’s just talk about what’s bothering you two so I can sleep?” Bow suggests, his voice rough with exhaustion. Catra nods quickly, and she feels Adora sit back up behind her to wrap an arm lightly around her. She wraps her tail around Adora’s waist in return, and can feel the puff of breath from her happy sigh. Catra reaches for Melog, and they rest their head in her lap. She strokes over their ear-points. 

“You know what this is about, don’t you?” she asks. The rust in Melog’s mane isn’t from her frustration, she can see. They’re mad as well, though not anywhere near as strongly as she had been. But mad all the same. She can't blame them at all. They probably heard the ugliest of what the two of them said to each other. Melog makes a small, grumpy sound.

_I could not make out most of your words until the end, but I could feel that this was about me when I awoke, as it was the foremost in your mind. It was impossible for me not to know it upset you. And still upsets you._

“No, Melog, now _you’re_ upset, not me. That’s how you feel. I'm surprised you're not more angry, actually.” Catra points out. Melog makes a puzzled sound.

 _I.. am upset?_ They sit up a little, looking down their own body, as if it could explain that fact to them better. _I.. yes, I am upset. You were before, but now I still am. It has not gone away, for some reason._

“Yeah. You wanna tell us about it?” Catra coaxes, remembering how often Melog had to do the same to her, to convince her that her friends cared and that she should express her feelings. To her immense gratitude, Glimmer reaches out to run a hand over Melog’s paw. 

“Go on.” she encourages, and Melog glances at her, and then Catra, for reassurance, before speaking again, their soft noises thoughtful. 

_I am not happy that you would talk about me without me. It upsets me. It makes a small pain happen in my chest, and I am not entirely sure why. Sometimes Catra would feel like this, and so I would, but now, it doesn’t want to leave me._ Catra relays this, and Glimmer bites her lip, glancing at Bow. 

“Would me being sorry for not talking with you first make that.. um.. pain feel any better?" Glimmer asks. "Because I am. I was sort of caught up about stuff and kinda forgot you’re not just a big cat. You’re your own person and we should have included you. So, I’m sorry.” Glimmer says, the words coming out in an awkward tumble. Melog’s head lifts up and their mane fades immediately to teal. Catra feels her heart warming towards her strange friend. Would that she could accept an apology so easily. She knows Glimmer means it, that she’s sincere, but it takes so much fighting every time to remind herself of that. Fighting she’s glad Melog doesn’t have to do with themself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too. Guess trying to avoid hurting your feelings was a dumb reason to cut you out of the discussion. _And_ it didn't even work.” Catra says, with a low, sardonic chuckle. She rubs behind one of Melog’s ears before teasing their mane. They mrp in delight, eyes bright.

 _You were right! The pain is gone! I was aware talking aided you, but I had no idea how quickly it worked!_ Melog says with clear wonder.

“Pretty sure that’s just you. I’m too messed up for stuff to just work that fast.” Catra says, glancing away, and she feels Adora’s arm tighten around her for just a moment. She leans back and rubs her cheek over Adora’s shoulder, a silent overture of love. Glimmer plays with her shirt hem until Bow takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. They look to each other, and Catra isn’t privy to their own silent language, but when Glimmer looks back, she looks less small and embarrassed.

“Melog, I’m worried about what happened with Adora and Catra’s room, and if it’ll happen again.” Glimmer says, her voice soft, careful. Catra expects Melog to assure her it wouldn’t, or to groan in guilt and shame, but they are silent for a long moment, their expression thoughtful.

 _I am scared of the same thing._ The sentence is almost a whisper in the back of her mind. Catra’s ears shoot up and Glimmer’s eyes snap to her immediately.

“Catra, what did they say?” she asks, probably sharper than she means to. Catra holds up her hand to see if Melog would say anything more, but they merely press to her stomach. Their mane has a hint of… white? Just a shadow of it, almost like moonlight. 

“They’re scared too.” Catra says, before immediately adding, “This … this seems to be the first time they’ve ever just had their own feelings, Glim. It’s a lot. If it makes you…” she starts, then pauses, before tapping Melog on the nose lightly to catch their attention. “If it makes both you and Melog feel better, maybe them and I can stick together until they get a hang on this whole feelings thing. It’d be nice to help someone with that stuff, for a change.” Melog licks her fingertip, and mrps. Glimmer relaxes back into Bow.

“Yeah. I think that’s fair, if Melog’s good with that.” she says, looking at the giant alien cat, who gives her a cute soft prrpt before rubbing against Catra’s chin.

 _That would reassure me greatly. May we visit Swift Wind tomorrow?_ they ask, and Catra stiffens, her ears twitching. Of course being a supportive friend has to immediately bite her in the ass. Still, it was only fair.

“Y-yeah, I guess we can do that if Glimmer doesn’t have anything planned for me tomorrow.” Catra replies to them, looking to Glimmer and practically begging with her eyes for the queen to suddenly fill her schedule.

“Why, what’s Melog want?” Glimmer asks, brows pulling together in confusion.

Catra bites out, “To visit Swift Wind.” Glimmer’s eyes light up with mirth and she gets a wicked smirk on her lips. Adora perks up behind Catra, gasping happily, and Catra is pulled into a stifling hug with Melog, squirming for a moment before going limp in the firm arms of her intractable girlfriend, sighing.

“Yes! We can visit Swift Wind! It’s been ages and I miss flying around with him and it’ll be SO CUTE to see Melog and Swifty hang out!” Adora gushes, and Catra sinks down, her ears drooping. Great.

“Of course you three can visit with Swift Wind,” Glimmer agrees, “I’ll make sure to clear your calendars.” Catra glares at her from the confines of Adora’s arms, and sticks out her tongue. Glimmer returns the gesture, classy as always. 

“Behave, this will be good practice for you too,” Adora mumbles into her hair, soft enough that only Catra can hear, giving her crown another kiss and then letting her and Melog free. Catra can feel her wiggling with excitement, and groans under her breath. If she knows Adora, she’ll want to be out of here by first light, and so that means Catra will have to be too. Being awake at dawn is bad enough without having to deal with She-Ra's mystical steed, but she’s clearly outvoted.

“Okay, seeing your pal Swift Wind tomorrow it is,” Catra says to Melog, with more enthusiasm than she feels. Melog knows just as clearly as Adora at how little she’s looking forward to this, but they still purrr against her nonetheless. She’ll try to make the effort for them. They deserved it.

“Great, wonderful, now can we all PLEASE go back to sleep?” Bow snaps out as that resolves, already reaching for his pillow and dramatically flopping back into the blankets. 

They slowly readjust back into their sleeping positions, though it’s a little more awkward now, at least for Catra. Earlier in the night they’d just all ended up where they ended up, but now Catra can feel Glimmer trying not to brush into her too much, mindful of where her body was. In turn, Catra keeps her tail wrapped tight around her waist. They end up back to back, Catra tucked against Adora, Glimmer pressed to Bow. 

The silence drags out as Catra tries to fall asleep, Adora already out like a light. Listening as Bow shifts and starts breathing deeply, as Melog sleep purrs at their feet. In the forest below, late night birds call as they hunt in the velvety darkness. Out in the halls, she can hear a guard walking past, one who probably waited until the drama was clearly over and done with to do her round. Her ears strain to follow the noise of the footsteps until they finally fade away.

“Catra?” 

Catra’s ear flicks at Glimmer’s whisper, and very gently, she shifts back, until she feels Glimmer’s back against hers. Glimmer pushes back, just slightly, and Catra hmms to herself. They’d never explained that to the others. It was something private, just between the two of them.

“Yeah?” she replies. 

“I wouldn't ever kick you out of the palace. You know that, right?” 

Catra opens her eyes to look at the wall. Most of her knew that. 

“I mean, you would if I hurt Adora. Or Bow.” she notes, her voice soft, careful. 

“As if you would.” Catra can hear the smile in Glimmer’s voice. “But I’d never kick you out of your home for scratching the walls or being a brat or whatever. Sorry if I got a little.. “ Glimmer’s words trail off. Catra slowly unwinds her tail, and lets it brush over Glimmer’s foot. Home. She can’t remember if Glimmer had ever really called it Catra’s home before. It’s always the palace, and Catra's rooms in the palace. Her purrr starts up, low and lazy, as she cracks a private smile of her own.

“Yeah. I know. Me too. I mean, I’m sorry too.” Catra mumbles. But she doesn’t entirely forget why she had been so upset, so she checks, “And Melog?” 

Glimmer’s foot softly taps against Catra’s calf. “Yes, it’s their home too, obviously. But if you push it too much the stables are also part of the palace. Still friends?” Catra purrs a little louder, grinning at the shadowy far wall.

“Sure, whatever. After all, I wouldn’t like you as much if you were a _complete_ pushover.”

“Scum.”

“Princess.”

“Hairball factory.”

“Glitter bomb.”

A pillow roughly blindsides Catra, whacking her from behind. Yelping, she turns and sees Bow sitting up and glaring at them both.

“Go. To. SLEEP!” he snaps, as loudly as he can while trying to still whisper, his voice cracking in frustration. There was something surreal about seeing him waving his pillow threateningly, eyes wild. Trying not to laugh, Catra winks at Glimmer and says, “Yeah, your majesty, go to sleep, I’ve got a horse to see in the morning!” She tucks back into Adora’s shoulder, bemused that she was still dead to the world. Glimmer gives her a small playful kick, which she returns, so of course Glimmer has to double it. They quickly stop, though, when Bow threatens to throw them both out of the room so he can finally get some rest. A few more snorts and giggles, and the silence returns. After that, sleep comes quickly, tangled in blankets, a smile still on Catra’s lips. 


	6. Chapter 6

“Why did I agree to do this?” Catra groans, stumbling through the long grass. The morning light is too bright and the birds were too loud and her stomach feels like acid from eating early so they could get going early. She tries shielding her eyes with a hand, but it’s hardly any help. 

“Because you love me and you love Melog and you’re a good person,” Adora says, swinging a basket. Melog purrs, bumping into Catra’s hip in a friendly way. Catra scowls and ducks down.

“Lies.” she growls, her tail swishing lazily. She originally offered to carry the blanket for their picnic, but Adora insisted, just like she’d insisted on handling everything else that could be seen as labour for this morning. She was up before dawn, and by the time she shook Catra awake for the third time, the food was packed, supplies gathered, Melog was pacing and Catra had just enough time to dress and shove a ration bar (they called them something else in the Rebellion and they tasted much better, with nuts and fruits) down her throat.

And now? They were going to find Swift Wind. Honestly, Catra isn’t entirely clear on where Swift Wind lives, and how far a walk it’ll be. He just sort of shows up, unannounced and unexpected, at random times. Usually yelling “Did somebody say Swift Wind?” 

No one _ever_ says Swift Wind. 

At least the magic as they enter the wood proper, combined with the shade, makes her feel a little better. It’s like a rich syrup mixed with the energy drinks she used to drink in the Horde. She sighs, her hand reaching out to stroke a tree. It thrums under her touch, almost imperceptibly. 

_You enjoy the woods much more than you used to._

Catra smiles to herself as Melog comments on that. She pulls her hand back and looks over to see Adora fondly looking back.

“What did Melog say?” Adora asks, her voice warm with affection, adjusting the blanket over her shoulder. Catra snorts.

“They just noticed I like these woods when they aren’t trying to, you know, kill me. Which is pretty obvious.” She draws a claw over the purple bark and watches the mark glow, before fading away as the scratch melts into the surface of the tree. “You sure you don’t want me to carry that for you, princess?” Adora straightens up and puffs out her chest, which makes Melog smile as much as Catra.

“Nope! I got this! It’s not that far anyway!” she assures them, before nearly tripping over a root. Catra darts out and grabs her by the jacket, laughing.

“Sure, brave hero. Just don’t show off so hard at me that you walk into a branch, okay? Don’t want Melog to have to spend their special morning carrying a concussed Adora.” Catra says, smacking her lightly with her tail before letting Adora go once she’s sure she’s got her balance again.

_I would not mind._ Melog notes. Catra grins a little wider at that comment. She loves the alien, but sometimes she feels they’re a few steps behind when humour is happening. She drags her hand down their back, her ears flicking as they follow every sound from the forest around them. Melog was right, she did enjoy it here so much more than before. Not just because of Adora, though that certainly helped. 

Every day in the Horde was about pressing down who she was. Every scratch, every purr, every hiss, they were watched, judged and found wanting. She never realised how careful she’d been until she didn’t need to be anymore. Sure, she might have wrecked her bed, her room in the Fright Zone, but had to be careful not to scratch the walls too much where others would see. Her cat traits were only as good as they were useful. 

She doesn’t need to be useful in the Whispering Woods. She just needs to be. And every branch and blade of grass and vine and fluttering or scampering thing sings to her inner cat. Catra grins as colour wings flicker above them in the tangle of branches, scattering motes of magic as they go.

The woods feel natural to her now, and she’s not fighting it. She grabs a flower as they pass a bush heavy with them, and tucks it behind Melog’s ear spike. They mrrp happily, tilting their head back and forth.

_Ah, do I look cute?_ They wonder, looking over to her. _Maybe you should give one to Adora as well._

“Trust me, if she wasn’t carrying all our gear, I would. She hates flowers in her hair,” Catra says with a smirk. Melog huffs, and at least this time they pick up that she’s teasing Adora, who unfortunately wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. Her eyes were on the path before them, and Catra watches bemused. Adora now put her entire focus on moving through the woods without tripping again, boots making sure they don’t catch, head ducking carefully around treelimbs. No, teasing her that way was out of the question if Catra didn’t want her to dump their lunch out on the ground. Tempting, but not worth it. Instead, Catra decides to take a different route, and jumps up to skip along the branches overhead. Melog easily follows, hopping from one wide bough to the next.

“How far is the walk, champ?” she calls down, and Adora’s head snaps up as she suddenly realises that her companions aren’t beside her. Her eyes narrow, and she grins. 

“Not that far. Is this your turn to show off to me, then?” she asks, now having to divide her attention between Catra above and the forest below. Adora, as usual, is wearing her standard outfit, but Catra tries to wear something different each day when she doesn’t have to dress in her work clothes. Today’s choice was a soft loose rust-red top that slips off her shoulder, aggressively slashed under her ribs to leave her stomach bare, and black leggings that had their own custom asymmetrical tears over her thighs. They look painted on, and she can feel Adora’s eyes drawn to her like a magnet. Catra gives her a lazy grin.

“Who’s showing off? I just happen to find it easier to walk up here. Not my fault you have those dumb clumsy legs. That’s why I always beat you in tag.” Catra purrs, before proceeding to show off by stepping backwards onto another branch without checking behind her. She used to be able to do this back in the Fright Zone, every pipe and beam memorized and natural for her, ingrained by years of practice and habit. She’s only been in the woods a few months, but it sings to her blood. Trust yourself, it whispers into the stem of her skull. You know what you’re doing. You won’t fall.

As long as she doesn’t let herself think about it, she doesn’t.

Adora gasps, and her attention is completely on Catra now as the magicat hops back a few more steps, keeping her eyes locked on Adora’s beautiful blues. Satisfied, she finally stops, slinging her legs over a limb as she sits. 

“You coming, or do I have to guess where Swift Wind’s secret pasture is and go talk to him by myself?”

Adora rolls her eyes, and hurries up, quickly passing under Catra, who baps her lightly with her tail before jumping back down to follow her on the ground. For Adora’s sake, really. Any more of that and she’d probably run into a tree. 

It wasn’t actually that far. It felt like longer, but by the time they reached the clearing in the woods, full of wildflowers and purple grasses tumbling out to the edge of a small pond, the daymoon hadn’t even cleared the treetops. Adora sighs happily, putting down the basket before flicking the blanket out onto the grass for them. Catra looks around. It wasn’t a small clearing, but there isn’t exactly room to hide an entire horse in it. She looks at Melog, who merely flicks their tail. 

“Are we in the right place? I thought this was where Swift Wind lives?” Catra asks, confused. 

“DID SOMEBODY SAY SWIFT WIND?” 

Catra hisses, nearly jumping out of her skin, spinning as the damn flying donkey of a steed bellows that out right behind her. Adora snort-laughs and she can FEEL Melog’s mirth. She spins on her heels, glaring at the alien cat.

“You little traitor, you knew he was right behind me!” she hisses out, trying to smooth down her puffed tail. Melog looks smug. Smug! This was not the time for them to be learning how to prank people. She blames the horse. He’s a bad influence. She watches as Melog forehead bumps Swift Wind. 

_It was very funny, though._ they purr, and Swift Wind flicks his wings, nuzzling the alien in return. 

“Melog! Adora! Aaaaand Catra! Finally, the union of noble animal companions and their brave heroes has been met!” Swift Wind trumpets. He gives Catra a smile, which she always finds unsettling, but she tries to weakly return it. “Melog and I have been discussing the very thing last week.”

“Really?” Catra asks. Melog jumps up to rest over Swift Wind’s broad back while Adora goes to give her horse a caress. The animal huffs at her, and she huffs back, and Catra has to assume that means something, though who knows what. She doesn’t speak equine. She glances at Melog. “I didn’t know Swift Wind could understand what you say.” she notes. Swift Wind looks at her, affronted.

“Of course I can!”

_He cannot._

“After all, Melog and I have a special connection as animal companions! It’s almost as sacred as my sacred bond, really!” He spreads his wings, and sings out, “Swift Wind and Melog, fighting injustice!”

_He’s just fun to listen to. Besides, he would assume I agree with him regardless of understanding my language._ Melog purrs, giving his mane a light lick of affection.

Catra snorts. That sounds about right, honestly. She rolls her eyes, and smirks at Swift Wind. “Sorry for ever doubting you,” she drawls, sarcasm dripping off every word. Swift Wind preens, regardless, and sidles closer to her. How a massive animal like him sidles, she’ll never understand. He wraps a wing around her back, giving her a few feather pats with it. 

“It’s quite alright. I realise we got off on the wrong hoof at first, what with me being Adora’s steed and you being her mortal enemy, but I’m hoping now that you’re on the side of justice and righteousness, we can make an excellent herd!” He smells funky, like soggy moss and musk with a hint of bird dust, and Catra’s nose wrinkles. She once asked Adora why she didn’t get Swift Wind to wash more often, and her girlfriend seemed shocked. Adora called the scent ‘cinnamon sweet’ and ‘warm’ and many other florid adjectives. Catra’s even seen her shove her nose in Swift Wind’s mane, or behind an ear, and sniff. Gross. Catra had to chalk that one up to personal taste, like how Glimmer thinks her perfumes are wonderful instead of being punched in the face by a sweaty jungle. She still makes Adora change after a ride. 

Very gingerly, she pets Swift Wind’s nose, and he seems delighted. 

“See? We’re already getting along so much better! I can just see it now. Swift Wind and Catra, off on adventur…” he starts to sing, and she covers his muzzle. 

“Nope, no adventure, I’m going to sit down because I’m exhausted and you and Adora and Melog can adventure away.” she grumps, extracting herself from his wing as he snorts into her palms. His blue eyes twinkle. She pulls her hand away and he rears up, making her jump back in shock, terrified one of those hooves will smack her in the face. 

“You say that now but I assure you, our exploits will be legendary!” he crows, tossing his mane. Catra looks desperately at Adora, since apparently Melog was perfectly happy to cling to this lunatic animal and listen to his ramblings, but she looks equally delighted, watching them all, a goofy, affectionate smile on her face. Double traitors. She frowns and flicks her tail.

“After lunch,” she mumbles, hoping to forestall any adventure until after he forgot about it. What if he wanted them to fly? Ugh. She flicks her tail out and shivers, before flopping in the grass to surreptitiously rub its scent over Swift Wind’s on her clothes. She pauses. 

“I’m not going to step in.. a horse… thing..” she asks, giving the flying pea brained donkey a suspicious look. He just looks confused, so she elaborates. “.. manure.” His ears perk up, and he snorts. 

“Oh, no! No, not around here, I just got here!” he assures her with a shake of his mane. Catra sits up, looking to Adora, who’s already unwrapping a sandwich.

“I thought we were going to where Swift Wind lives!” Catra asks, her ears tilting back. Adora arches an eyebrow, and shrugs.

“I mean, he has a place in Bright Moon to live, but he doesn’t really live anywhere in particular. I just told him to come visit us here since I know this is one of his favourite spots.” Swift Wind trots over to the blanket, rooting through the basket until he finds an apple. Melog hops off his back and goes to sit beside Catra, purring as they lounge as well, stealing Adora’s sandwich before she notices. Catra’s eyes narrow. Terrible influence, that horse, she thinks, as she takes the other half of it from Melog to eat herself, with a nod. 

“Mmmf,” Swift Wind starts to say, mouth full, chewing it sloppily before swallowing. “The world is my stable now, and the doors are wide open! But I do like it here.” He carefully lays down on his belly, as Adora frowns and reaches for a second sandwich, shooting Catra and Melog a look. 

_It is a place I generally find him. Or the stables, or sometimes we just encounter each other._ Melog adds, nudging Catra to grab them a sandwich as well as her own. She obliges. 

“So, wait, okay, Melog said they randomly run into Swift Wind and hang out, but how did _you_ contact him, Adora? Does he have some sort of horse communicator tablet?” Catra asks, tossing a cupcake to Melog before grabbing two more sandwiches and a cupcake for herself. She wouldn’t put it past Bow to give Swift Wind one.

“No, we just communicate through our sacred bond! In our minds!” Swift Wind says cheerfully. “Adora asked me last night, and I gotta say it was pretty late, but she said you guys were so excited to see me I just had to make time for you in my busy schedule.” 

Catra’s jaw drops. “Wait, wait wait wait, you can talk to each other with your minds?” Adora pauses in eating her sandwich and smirks.

“Catra, you do the same thing with Melog.” she points out. Catra shakes her head quickly.

“No, I can’t like.. Talk with them. In my brain.” She gestures to Melog. “I have to use words.”

_You actually do not, many times._

“You’re missing the point here, they’re talking to each other from the other side of the planet, maybe! That’s… that’s …” honestly very cool, she thinks, but says instead “..Crazy!” 

_Yes, it IS very cool. I wonder if we could develop a similar skill._

“I never said it was cool.”

_Of course you did not._

Catra is starting to suspect Melog might have developed sass too. She blames Sparkles for that one. She frowns a little, eating more of her lunch. “How far does it work?” she asks, just for strategic reasons, of course. Not because that was particularly interesting. Her tail swishes through the grass. 

“Well, I could sense Adora for certain before you re-entered Etheria’s atmosphere, so I’d guess out to the moons?” Swift Wind wonders aloud, looking up in the sky where one of them glowed bright. “We should test that! The power of the sacred bond!” Catra’s eyes flick from him, to the sky, to Melog. Who looked admiringly at Swift Wind, tail swishing as well, ears perked forward. She takes another bite and considers it. 

“Explains a lot,” she finally settles on. She shifts out of the grass, satisfied she doesn’t smell of horse, and joins Adora on the blanket. Adora’s hand strokes down over her arm, as Catra’s ever graceful girlfriend tries to swallow whatever massive mouthful she’s given herself and chokes on it. Coughing a bit, she takes a swig from a blue bottle, and sighs. 

“Right. Swifty and I can talk-talk in our heads. He’s even gotten me out of some weird mental places at some points. I mean, not like you and Melog, literally weird. A lot of my training with Light Hope was mental and I didn’t want to leave it, at one point, but he barged in and set me straight.” Catra can’t help smiling at the image 

“He barged into your _brain_. That sounds about right.” she purrs, hitting the side of Adora’s leg lightly with her tail before winding it around her calf. Adora’s hand slips up from her shoulder to rub through Catra’s short hair. Adora asked, once, if she could try healing the hair to the right length, but it hadn’t worked. Catra missed her long hair, especially since it had never been her choice to cut it, but it was nice to have Adora’s nails scratching her scalp like this. Her eyes slowly close, and she can feel the purr rumbling up from her chest. 

Over the purr, Catra can hear Swift Wind talking to Melog about the finer points of mind-speech. Melog was giving non-committal but encouraging noises. Her ear flicks as she catches a few words here and there. “So, is that why you don’t worry about Swift Wind? You two can just tell each other where you are?” 

“Pretty much.” Adora agrees. “He can even find me when I’m not looking for him, which can be surprising.” Catra chuckles and can hear Adora’s own sardonic smile when she says that. She leans into the touch a little longer, until Adora’s hand pauses, and lifts away. Catra’s nose scrunches after a moment.

“Hey!” she says, and Adora laughs, going back to teasing through her hair. 

“Sorry, sorry. Just remembered something. You know how you were worried about forcing Melog about being with you? And controlling them?” Catra cracks an eye open and her purr sputters to a stop. She rolls on her side to better look at Adora. Adora moves her hand to rub behind an ear. Catra frowns; that was playing dirty. She presses into the touch anyway. 

“So, did I ever tell you how I ended up with a noble steed?” Adora asks, with a twinkle in her eyes that Catra doesn’t expect. She shifts to sit up, starting to smile herself. This sounds like it’ll be juicy if Adora has that sort of expression. 

“Go on….?” she drawls, her tail flicking. Adora leans over, and lowers her voice conspiratorially. 

“I was trying to figure out how to turn into She-Ra right after, you know… ending up at Bright Moon. He was just a regular horse minding his own business, and I was trying to show off my She-Ra powers which, at the time, I had no idea how to even do.”

“You still barely do, dummy,” Catra purrs, grinning wider and wider. She leans forward herself. Adora makes a slashing motion with her arm. 

“So, I ‘for the honour of Grayskull’ at him and I zapped him with the sword!” Catra gasps, eyes wide with delight at this secret Adora lore. “He went from a regular horse to having wings and a horn and all the magical steed powers in half a second. Complete accident!” Adora continues, gesturing wildly.

“You _didn’t!_ _That’s_ where he came from?!” Catra purrs in sadistic glee, “I just assumed they handed steeds out! Light Hope popped him out for you to hook you into being the savior of the planet. So, what, one minute he’s a horse and the next he just Swift Wind’s at you and takes you flying?” Adora grins back and shakes her head.

“Oh no, no no, he flew away and freaked out and stuff. It was a whole thing, I wasn’t even on the rebellion’s side yet, technically, so people kept attacking me. I didn’t even know what I was doing and poof! I made a horse have a sacred bond with me! He didn’t even speak to me for a week!” Catra bursts out laughing, picturing Adora freaking out, waving a sword, getting attacked by the Rebellion and trying to chase down a winged horse. Her sides ache, and she keeps trying to catch her breath, but she can’t stop picturing Adora, so out of her element, and this damn bird horse thing… When she finally manages to get some control over herself, Adora smiles at her warmly. 

“See? Asking Melog nicely is nothing on that.” she notes, her voice a tender tease, full of affection. Catra nods, wiping a tear from her eyes and taking a few, shaking breaths until she can finally talk.

“Man, now I’m starting to feel bad for _Swift Wind_ , ending up with you. He could have been living his best life and he’s stuck with the dorkiest She-Ra in history.” Catra purrs, smirking at her. Adora clears her throat and nods, blushing a little and rubbing her free hand over the back of her neck like the adorable dweeb she is. 

“Yeah, I felt a bit bad about that, but he told me he’s pretty happy to have the wings and horn and powers. He’s just glad to be able to use them to help people.”

“You mean horses.” 

“And the Rebellion!” Adora adds, defensive, as Catra rolls her eyes with a laugh. She turns back to see what Swift Wind and Melog are up to. For some reason he’s trotting in the pond, gesturing with his wings while Melog sits primly, their paws just out of reach of the water. He’s telling some sort of wild story, from what Catra can gather. She shifts a bit, and squints her eyes. She wonders if Melog actually could hear her thoughts? They still aren’t clear on what Melog is and the limits of Melog’s own magic, and she wonders if Melog even knows for sure. They don't appear to see her looking, engrossed by the alicorn, so she tries focusing on them and seeing if she can get their attention. Hey. Hey Melog. Hey. Hey Hey. Hey. Hey Melog. MELOG. HEY MELOG. HELLO I CAN’T TELL IF YOU CAN EVEN HEAR THIS! She snaps upright when Adora’s hand waves in front of her eyes.

“You okay? You spaced out there and then started looking angry. Was it about the Rebellion?” Adora asks, careful, and Catra’s ears flick back.

“What?! No. No, I was just trying something.” she sputters out. Adora narrows her eyes, then understanding dawns. Catra ducks down a little as her girlfriend’s expression grows smug, and she tries to cut off any comment with “Shut up!” It doesn’t work. She didn’t expect it to.

“Oooooh, _now_ who doesn’t know how to use her special powers!” Adora teases. Catra growls and gives her a shove, but Adora’s expecting it and it’s like pushing a pillar. 

“Shut it! I don’t even _have_ any special powers! I was just checking if Melog did, since they’re magical and special and clearly we have a less stupid sacred bond. But your dumb horse is too loud for them to think straight, obviously.” Catra argues, and Adora nods, solemnly, still looking smug.

“Obviously.” she replies, sarcastically. “And, just for your information, Swift Wind is still the coolest.” Catra looks over, and Swift Wind has a lilypad on his head now and is imitating… she’s going to guess Mermista? Sounds like Mermista's sarcasm, only nasal and from a giant talking alicorn. She’s going to have to ask Melog about this later.

“Sure, that thing is clearly cooler than an alien that can turn invisible and teleport us and use magical illusion powers and shapeshift. How could I have ever missed that.” she agrees, her voice flat. Adora's expression grows wistful, looking at their two companions as well.

“I wish you’d try to get along with him. I know he’s a lot, but he’s a really good guy. Horse. Horse-guy.” Catra glances over, feeling her snark die in her throat. Her cheeks heat up, and she looks away. No wonder Melog didn’t want to bring her along when they met up with Swift Wind. She's being terrible at this.

“I know. I’m trying. Really. I’ll.. work on it more, though. I know he means a lot to you. And Melog likes him.” Catra picks at the blanket with a claw, pulling a thread free. “Still trying to get used to not seeing your friends as competition.” She can hear Adora moving closer, and after a moment a blue bottle is waggled in front of her line of sight. She takes it, pulling the top off with a pop and drinking. It’s sweet and sour and refreshing, and thankfully not overly fizzy. 

“I know, you’ve been doing really well on that. And he’s not, really. Just like Melog isn’t competition for me. Unless there’s something I need to know.” Adora says, a touch of humour in her soft voice. Catra shakes her head, her lips twitching into a gentle smile. 

“No, dummy. In case you didn’t notice, I’m madly in love with you.” Catra mutters.

“How awful for you.”

“I know.” 

Adora’s arm wraps over her shoulder, tugging her close, and Catra ducks her head to rest it under Adora’s chin, her purr ramping up slowly. She takes another sip, and huffs when she feels a puff of air over her ear, which twitches. Adora does it a few more times, before grabbing it in her lips lightly. Catra baps her back lightly with her tail. 

“Not in front of the kids.” she mumbles, feeling warmth spread through her. Adora snorts, and lets it go, and Catra reaches up to wipe the wetness off of her eartip. “Weirdo.” she accuses lazily. 

“Mmmhmm.”

They watch the other two for a while longer, until Swift Wind finishes whatever he was telling Melog and notices the rest of his audience. He trots out of the pond, Melog deftly side-stepping the splash. Adora clicks her tongue, looking over his soggy legs, wet almost to the knees and stained by the pond water. 

“I’m going to have to get your hooves clean later,” she notes, as Swift Wind tries to scrape the mud clinging to them off. He flicks his tail. 

“You don’t have to, I have one of the stablehands wrapped around my hoof back at Bright Moon.” he informs them primly, but Catra can see him side-eyeing Adora, with a face that begs to be fussed over. Her girlfriend takes the bait immediately. 

“No! I want to, besides, it’s been ages since I gave you a good brushing!” Adora sits up a bit straighter, and Catra adjusts, not leaving her side but lifting her head herself.

“You sure? It’s up past his ankles.” she teases, her tail curling around Adora’s waist. “Seems like a lot of She-Ra work.” 

“Pasterns,” Adora corrects. Catra gives her a puzzled look. She gestures to Swift Wind’s muddy legs. “They’re not ankles on a horse, they’re pasterns.” She points quickly, rattling off “Hoof to pastern to cannon to knee to forearm..” 

“Wait, they can’t be called ankles but they have knees AND forearms? That’s dumb,” Catra huffs. “Just use regular words, instead of weird horse language!” Swift Wind stops nipping at an itch between his wings and flicks his ear.

“Maybe it’s weird to me that you don’t have pasterns,” he huffs. Catra snorts, rolling her eyes. 

“And you insist we call your nails 'claws',” Adora adds, which is just unfair because they’re distinctly different from boring regular nails. Catra tries giving Melog a look for support. Surely their much better bond will save her from these two! Sensing her time of need, Melog goes to give her a lick on the forehead, before stealing the cupcake she’d taken for herself earlier. _Does this mean I no longer have paws, but feet?_ they ask, muzzle full. 

“You’re all ganging up on me. Betrayal!” Catra groans, flopping over Adora’s lap, her wrist on her forehead, rolling her eyes for added effect. She’s about to carry on with her litany of complaints, but then Adora’s fingers stroke over the bare strip between her shirt and leggings, and Catra goes boneless. 

“Betrayed and using dirty tactics,” she tries to growl, but it comes out more of a purr. Even Swift Wind laughs, which is awful, and she’ll hate it more when Adora’s fingers aren’t brushing from navel to ribs in gentle passes. 

“So, have you eaten enough to consider my proposal of adventure?” Swift Wind asks, his tone sly, and Catra’s having trouble remembering to be annoyed, with the warm scents around her, the brightness and Adora’s gentle touch and the magic of the place melting over her like a blanket. It soothes every nerve, reminding her she’s safe, she belongs, she’s loved.

_Swift Wind told me a very entertaining story about him, Sea Hawk, and Mermista dealing with a giant squid. There was fire involved. It sounded very exciting, and made me long for us to try something similar, though perhaps with less property damage._ Melog says, and Catra can feel their joy trickle through to her. Melog was feeling emotions, their own emotions, and it wasn’t shame or sadness or rage or fear. Catra doesn’t want that to end, not because of her and her bad attitude. She had to try harder. 

Besides, it wasn’t entirely selfless. The more time they spend doing things that make Melog happy, the less Catra has to support them through ugly emotions. The more they spent on things that aren’t about yesterday, about Melog’s disorienting changes, the mystery of who their people are and whatever caused them to panic, the less Catra has to deal with her own fears and worries that way. She's still growing herself, and she's trying, but she doesn't know how the others have the _energy_ for all this. There’s nothing wrong with just taking an easy day of it after all that, is there? She cracks her golden eye open and gives Swift Wind a cautious look.

“Fine, ‘steed’, what did you have in mind?”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adjusted the description to better describe the current story, as I worry the cryptic original one is putting potential readers off, and isn't indicative of the current content now that we're past the first part. 
> 
> Also, this was so hard to write because I didn't particularly like Swift Wind, but revisiting the show, I do appreciate him and his bond with Adora a lot more. I'm still mad that somehow this is both my longest chapter AND I've ended up making the Swift Wind part a two-parter so now I have to write him MORE. Ugh. On the bright side, it's two parts so I could put some gratuitous Catradora fluff in there. Don't say I never did anything for you people. Or myself...


	7. Chapter 7

Adora’s back is a beautiful thing. Catra has admired it for years, one of the few completely safe things for her to admire when she first became aware her esteem of her best friend was more than innocent childhood affection. Even now, she appreciates every time she can see it, scars and all. Currently, though, she’s unable to fully enjoy the experience of having her face pressed tightly between Adora’s shoulders, arms wrapped around her chest.

“You know, Etheria’s really nice from up here. I promise you’d like the view if you took a peek.” Adora’s voice, affectionate and gentle, reaches her pinned ears over the brisk breeze. 

“I’m fine, thanks.” Catra snaps, her tail curling more tightly around her waist.

“I never thought you’d be afraid of heights,” Adora tries again, this time attempting to challenge her pride. Catra snorts, her eyes still focused on Adora’s nape. Her legs squeeze more tightly around the moving, living animal under her, and she has to force her claws not to dig.

“It’s not the heights, it’s how we got here.” she notes, tersely. Melog is house-cat sized, now, and as unconcerned as Adora, sitting somewhere in front of the pair.

 _Swift Wind is perfectly safe. Adora has ridden him many times, Catra, and she’s very much still alive._ They also try to encourage her to relax, but Catra is fine, thank you, focusing on Adora. No, it wasn’t the heights she had an issue with, it was being this high on an animal she has personally seen get their horn caught on a tapestry twice on the same day during a council meeting. A tapestry on a wall several feet behind him. She never thought she’d enjoy the idea of being teleported, but this could change her mind. 

At least they’d all discouraged Swift Wind from flying loop-de-loops.

The air this high is chilly, and the scents are washed out, so far from the ground. The magic though, the magic still clings even up here. Without anything else distracting her, Catra can even feel it rolling off of the alicorn’s body below, a mirror of Adora’s magic, but nowhere near as strong. Each powerful flap of his wings travels through each muscle of his back, but at the same time, Catra can feel a pulse of something beyond the mere actions of flesh and nerves. Catra closes her eyes, and breathes in deeply, until Adora fills her senses, and soothes her. She still doesn’t look down, though. 

“We’re almost there! See? You’d never even suspect it’s down there! But nothing hides from the vigilant gaze of Swift Wind!” the alicorn belts out. Catra finally tears her eyes from Adora’s jacket, and she hazards a peek. It was jungle, thick and wild, but even more dense than around Bright Moon.

“Plumeria…” she guesses, the trees familiar. But given how far they’d flown, it was a forgotten corner of the near-wild kingdom. Catra can’t see what he means, and then she can as he wheels in the sky. A broken tower, almost lost in shades of green, pale as a snapped tooth. The trees around it almost look normal, but Catra can make out where the forest seems to grow strangely, hinting at the outlines of buildings, and something long and straight.

Catra yelps as Swift Wind banks his turn deeply and starts to glide down in wide circles, her claws catching in Adora’s jacket. She’s done looking, she feels, and she squints her eyes closed, barely breathing until finally his hooves hit the ground. Instantly, she’s rolling off into deep ferns, staggering to her feet and panting. Adora chuckles behind her, and Catra growls. 

“How, HOW were you able to just climb on this horse and go flying when you didn’t even know if you’d fall off!?” she asks, turning to see her girlfriend smiling as she hops down to give Swift Wind an appreciative pat on the neck. 

“Sacred bond?” Adora suggests, grinning broadly and holding her hands up. Catra shakes her head, laughter bubbling up into her throat.

“You’re the bravest and stupidest person I know,” she accuses, unable to keep the warmth from her voice. 

Melog jumps down as well, growing smoothly into their larger size, and pressing into Catra’s leg and hip with a soft mrp. 

_You did very well. I am sure it will become less scary the more often you fly._ They assure her, and she tightens her mouth, but her fingers drop to brush over their ear points. 

“It’s _not_ the flying!” she objects, feeling her hair rise up a little, defensive, “I like it in skiffs and vehicles and Scorpia’s… weird thing, I just don’t like…”

 _Not having some control over it?_ Melog suggests, gazing up at her. Catra sighs. Perceptive bastard. 

“That’s right, Melog, I _am_ an amazing flier, thank you for noticing,” Swift Wind preens, oblivious to the true nature of their exchange. He tucks his wings away, sorting out the long feathers deftly, and gestures with his horn. “I told you this place was ripe for adventure! I’d been meaning to bring Adora here, but, well, you know, Horde Prime happened and we were a little busy saving the planet.” 

Adora reaches out and her fingertips brush along the back of Catra’s hand. She turns and grasps the hand. “And then I flew off to look for you.” Adora tells her warmly. Catra’s heart swells in her chest. 

“Weren’t you going to save Glimmer?” Swift Wind asks, and Catra isn’t certain if it’s merely blundering innocence or a hint of malice behind that. Adora flinches, and squeezes her hand, sweat pooling against Catra’s fur from Adora's palm.

“Ye-es, but also Catra?” Adora says, nervously glancing towards Catra, regret naked on her face, concern making her voice uncertain. Catra’s lips quirk and she squeezes back. There were no illusions shattered here. She knows no one knew she was even alive and no one had ever been coming for her. The Horde was nothing but a shell, her allies, if she ever had any, long gone, her enemies indifferent. Adora had no clue Catra would be there, not until the instant she saw Catra in the viewscreen, lightyears away from home. 

She still came back for her. Brave. Brave and stupid.

From the ground, it was almost impossible to see what they had come there for. The trees of Plumeria didn’t appear as aggressively aware as those in the Whispering Woods, though magic swirls around here too, in currents that scent of mint and orchid. But what they lacked in cognisance they more than made up for in abundance. Abundance that had just grown more intense since Adora had unlocked the Heart. Perfuma had taken particular interest in the massive space tree that Prime’s ship had turned into, but really, everywhere, from the former Fright Zone to the edges of the Kingdom of Snows experienced a burst of life that still hadn’t gone away, and perhaps never would. 

It takes keen eyes and an awareness of what you were looking for, but Catra finally picks out the artificial shapes under the vines and roots and branches. There’s a door here, massive as all First Ones’ ruins seem to be. “Found it,” she says, slipping through the growth to rest her palm flat against the old structure. The outside was that strange not-marble they seemed to use everywhere.

“You didn’t find it, I led you to it, but yes, there’s the door! Well done, Catra,” Swift Wind says, flicking his tail and ducking his horn forward. Catra’s fangs grate across each other as she bites back her comments to that, well aware of Melog watching her. 

“You know, I think every single time I’ve gone into one of these ruins, it nearly killed me?” she points out, dryly. Adora steps up with them, examining the marks. 

“Well, if it’s not a corrupted failsafe, I should be able to turn off the security,” she reminds Catra, her fingers brushing over the surface until she finds a circular carving that her hand fits perfectly against . Blue lights shoot up from it and over the deep engravings that cover the surface of the ruin, so bright they glow through the heavy layer of ivy and moss obscuring them. Catra half expects the ground to rumble as the door slides open, but the only noise is the unceremonious sound of vegetation being torn free from thousand year old moorings.

“Turning it off wouldn’t be very exciting for Melog and Catra though! We should let them have fun and then we can save the day.” Swift Wind huffs, giving Adora a sidelong glance. Catra nearly growls at how patronizing the horse was being, but Melog bumps her side, and she takes a slow breath. 

_He just wants me to have an exciting time. He is very fearless._ They remind Catra, their tail brushing her calf. She nods, tersely, and Melog purrs, adding, _It will not be like the Heart._

Melog knew about the Heart. It would have been impossible to hide it from them, and Catra didn’t. The first night after, Catra and Adora struggled to sleep, the images of what had occurred burning into their minds, and they talked about it, with each other, airing their thoughts and fears aloud. And Melog was there, pressed tight to them both, guarding them, until finally it was safe in the small hours for them both to rest. 

No, of course it wouldn’t be the Heart. Nothing would be. But if she sees anything like that massive green monster, they are _leaving_ , adventure or not. 

The air from inside the ruin smells stagnant, dead in a way that even the other ruins hadn’t before. As the walls light up, blinking to life down a typical First One’s passage, Catra feels like she’s entering a tomb. As they enter the vaulted hall, she half expects to see bones scattered on the floor, undisturbed for millennia. Adora’s hand slips into hers, and she’s not sure who reached for the other first. 

Swift Wind trots ahead, singing to himself, unconcerned with the atmosphere of the place. “Swift Wind and Melog, looking for action, traveling into the deep dark ruuuuin…” 

Catra looks around. It was… all actually very bright, the walls glowing. Her nose wrinkles, and besides the air feeling old, she can’t smell any rot or death. Nor can she hear anything beyond the low hum of the power that’s slowly waking up the abandoned building. Doors lead off from the hallway, each one with a sign in the ancient language. Melog slows down, falling away from Swift Wind’s side as the alicorn trots along, absorbed in his melody.

_Storage?_

Catra pauses, glancing at the door Melog was looking at. “Storage?” she asks Melog, but it’s Adora who turns to answer. 

“What? Oh, yeah, that’s what that says. Nice, I didn’t think you’d picked up any of it yet.” she says, impressed, and Catra’s ears twitch. She tries to make out the letters from the necklace-like design, but no luck.

“Still haven’t, princess. Melog read that,” she admits, looking to the alien, who seems almost as puzzled as they are. They sniff at the door, and it slides silently open, causing their mane to puff up in surprise, in tandem with Catra’s tail. As a group, they approach the darkened room, but lights blink on across the walls as Melog crosses the threshold. 

Catra’s used to the First One’s odd minimalist rooms, but this seems pretty bare for storage, the huge room empty. Glowing squares on the floor outline an unused path around where crates or shelves might have been in the past. But whatever had been stored in here, it was long gone, cleaned out. 

Adora’s voice sounds soft, almost as if she’s expecting to be heard by the building. “Maybe they stopped using this before Mara shunted the planet into Despondos. Or they never ended up using the building at all?” Catra can only half-shrug. 

“Or they just didn’t use this room. I mean, the Horde was big on saving everything but the First Ones?” She taps a wall. “They make Bright Moon look like Kyle’s locker.” Adora snorts. 

“They had stuff! Bow’s dads collect it, remember?” she argues, and Catra shrugs. Maybe they did some places, but every ruin she’s been in, and they’d all been undisturbed or close enough before her or Adora entered, had all seemed barren. Chilly and precise in their architecture in a way that made even the rusting halls and sickly green lights of the barracks they grew up in seem positively lively in comparison.

Hooves clatter down the hall, and they turn to see Swift Wind run past the open doorway, before trying to stop as they overshoot. There’s a thud, and Catra snorts, even as she feels the disapproval radiating from Melog and Adora. Peering back into the hall, they see the alicorn tugging on his horn, which was rammed three inches deep into the wall he’d slid into. 

“Hold on, you guys! I’ve got this!” he says, as Adora goes to try and help free him, but they end up working cross-purposes, Swift Wind twisting one way as Adora tries to pull him free in another. Catra’s sides ache as she bites back her laughter, which, she feels, is being as helping as SHE can possibly be. Finally, there’s a flash of light and an equine whinny, and She-Ra is standing there, holding him under his barrel and yanking his horn out of its prison.

 _Are you quite alright, Swift Wind?_ Melog asks, concern trickling out into the noises they make, hurrying over as She-Ra sets her steed down.

The alicorn straightens out his wings and replies, “I’m fine, completely fine!” Lucky guess. He bumps She-Ra with his shoulder, and Catra can hear the heavy smack of muscle to muscle that probably would have sent Adora flying, though She-Ra just smirks in return. “I thought some ancient mythical trap got you guys! You wandered off without me!”

Melog purrs, an echoing sound of delight, and Catra expects them to rub against the horse. Instead, though, they press against Adora’s--against _She-Ra’s_ thigh, a pink blush in their mane. She looks down at Melog, and Catra stiffens. Oh crap. Adora’s blue eyes, much higher up than usual and glowing with She-Ra’s energy, now turn to meet her own. Turn and look _down_. She arches an eyebrow, and Catra can feel her cheeks glow hot. Adora’s smug look is cute, but on She-Ra, with confidence radiating from her? It morphs into something suave, arrogance that manages to be charming. Melog mrrps in satisfaction, Catra’s innermost humiliating feelings relayed. She turns on her heels, tail slashing the air, heading briskly away from the trio. 

_Would you like Swift Wind and I to explore ahead so you two might have some privacy?_ The alien calls after her, their voice a knowing lilt in Catra’s head, their purr salacious. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m _interested_ in _She-Ra!_ ” she snaps, and Swift Wind snorts, a heavy, horsey sound. 

“Well, _that’s_ not true at all!” he comments, trotting to catch up to her. He nudges Catra on the shoulder and gives her this knowing, almost paternal look. “I mean, I’m not exactly an expert on non-equine romance, but you’re pretty clearly into She-Ra.” He was _laughing_ at her, and if Catra wasn’t on her absolute best behavior, he’d have some stripes on his cheek to match Adora’s old scar.

“Uuugh! Let’s just explore this stupid old building!” Catra growls, her hands clenched into fists. Stomping off, she can hear the group chuckling behind her, Adora’s laugh ever so slightly lower and richer than normal in a way that is _not at all_ making her stomach flutter. Catra’s more than happy to run into any giant monster security bug the place cares to throw at her, thanks.

With She-Ra radiating primal, pure magic behind her, the part of Catra’s brain that isn’t focused on not thinking about her attractive girlfriend’s mystical alter-ego pieces together why this building felt so dead when they entered. The magic Catra can feel in every corner of Etheria now, as natural as the air around her, doesn’t permeate this ruin. The First Ones didn’t just harness its natural flow, they strangled it, sucking it dry and using that to power their places. Compared to the world outside, this place feels soulless. Hollow. She-Ra, vibrant and luminous with power, makes everything the First Ones have built feel all that more clinical and empty in comparison. 

Before, Catra didn’t know better. No one on Etheria did. What sorcery Etheria had merely trickled free from the prison it was kept under. But now? The contrast is stark. She suspects if they ever had a reason to return to any of the places they’d been in the past, they’d feel just as lacking. This place feels as unnatural as a scalpel, and like a blade, its presence left scars on the very fabric of the world around it.

She registers space and the hollow sound of her steps and she stops. She’s left the corridors and is now in a massive vaulted room, with a ceiling height that puts even the palaces of the various princess to shame, but long and broad as well. She can hear the others entering behind her, and the change in the footsteps as She-Ra becomes Adora again. The essence of her magic leeches away, and the vast space feels all the more desolate for that. The lights seem hardly enough for the space they’re illuminating, and the distance fades into shadow. Adora drapes an arm around Catra, and she leans into her in return, her tail curling around one of her girlfriend’s legs. Melog slinks in, eyes wide and glowing, mane smoothed down, footpads deadened on the smooth floor. Even Swift Wind is silent. 

Unlike the store room, bare and cleared out, the space they’re in has more than a few remnants of… whatever it had been. Terminals pepper the walls, with strange tools connected to some. Shelves remain here, mostly bare. Odd pillars or plinths sit at chest height near glowing, squared off zones. The walls have markings as well, matching the floors with their glowing lines, but Catra can’t read them at all. What she does recognise, though, is the two rows of blinking dots that lead away from the center of the space to the far wall. 

“This looks like it’s … a garage?” Adora wonders aloud. Catra nods. The arrival path reminds her of how the skiffs and hovertanks are directed into their holding areas, and the terminals were for diagnostics. But the size of the place dwarfed the largest vehicles the Horde used. Even a sailing ship would feel lost in here.

“What did they even fix in here?” Catra murmurs. She glares at the markings. “First Ones and their stupid fancy-ass writing..” she growls, kicking a shelf. It twangs, deep and resonant, and some dust puffs out from it. Melog looks past her to the wall.

 _It is just D-10. It does not mean anything in particular._ They inform her, before sneezing at the dust as it floats over their snout. Catra laughs, and then sneezes herself. 

“How are you even reading this?” Catra asks them, looking between the markings over the walls and the alien. 

_I don’t remember. It’s just familiar. I… it all feels familiar._

“Like home?” Catra hazards, remembering the possibly First Ones structures back on Krytis.

_No. The opposite of home._

Adora squints, and randomly pokes a pillar just standing beside the shelf, and it flashes to life. They all jump back, Catra and Melog hissing and Swift Wind’s hooves clattering across the hard floor. A hologram flickers and sputters, before projecting a flat, mask-like face just above their eye level.

 _ <<Good afternoon. Please enter your work ID or pilot licence to proceed with your options.>> _ Catra snorts a laugh. 

“It’s...just Darla’s voice! I guess that’s just what the First Ones liked. Not very creative though.” She leans forward, and pokes her claw through the face, which wobbles and pops back into place. Adora cracks her knuckles.

“It looks like Light Hope! Or a simple version. I bet this was part of her network in the past. So… Friends of Mara!” Adora says, confidently. The head flickers, staring past her.

 _ <<ID not on file. Good afternoon. Please enter your work ID or pilot licence to proceed with your options.>> _

Catra smirks and leans forward. “Maybe try telling it you’re She-Ra?” she suggests. Adora scowls at her, and clears her throat. 

“I’m.. I’m She-Ra?” she tries, less confident than before. It seems to take longer this time, and they end up leaning over, hopeful. The holograph sputters a little, before speaking.

 _ <<ID not on file. Good afternoon. Please enter your work ID or pilot licence to proceed with your options.>> _

“Sorry, princess, guess She-Ra isn’t so important after all,” Catra teases, flicking her tail against Adora’s hip. Adora frowns, and goes to poke the terminal on the wall. 

“This stupid system should know who I am, the voice recognition probably doesn’t recognise me because I don’t sound like Mara…Sheee-ra” she mutters, tapping something, presumably the name. The hologram flickers, before flashing red. 

_ <<ID not on file. Maximum Access Attempts reached. Please contact your supervisor or squadron leader for further instructions…>> _ Adora’s eyes go wide and she starts smacking things, panicking.

“No.. no no no no let me in don’t shut down...” she babbles . Oblivious, the hologram flickers out, and the terminal starts beeping with each touch. Narrowing her eyes, Adora snaps, “Stupid terminal, how do you not know who She-Ra is?!” before punching it hard enough that the keypad cracks with a spark of blue. Catra clears her throat in the embarrassed silence as the terminal gives one last, wobbly beep before shutting off completely.

“Wow, _that’s_ going to show it that you’re the She-Ra. That how you got Darla to fly, princess?” she drawls. Adora flaps her hand, hissing, her knuckles a little ruddy. There’s a flash, and they heal. Cheating, Catra thinks, bemused. Adora glares sharply at Catra, who holds her own hands up in mock-surrender. 

“Hey, no need to punch _me_ , idiot, you already _have_ all access.” she reminds Adora with a theatrically innocent expression. That, at least, makes Adora snort like a piglet, and relax. They look further down the wall, half expecting everything to be blinking red, but the other terminals appear unaffected. Catra moves over to the next one, and frowns thoughtfully. Sensing her plan, Melog hops up, and directs her as she types in. Another hologram, or the same one, projected at the nearest plinth, flickers into life. 

_ <<Good Afternoon, Squad Leader Mara. How may I be of assistance?>> _ Catra grins, turning to bow deeply at her stunned companions.

“Thank you, thank you…” she says to the imaginary applause, aping Double Trouble. Adora blinks, looking like a confused frog with her mouth hanging open like that. It’s a good look, and Catra wishes she could frame it for later. Adora snaps her mouth closed and looks at Catra as if she’d conspired, somehow, with an ancient race to make Adora look foolish.

“How… did you DO that?” she asks, gesturing wildly at the keyboard, flushed with annoyance. Catra wiggles her fingers with a salacious little smirk.

“Just guessed maybe it was _Mara_ they were expecting, not She-Ra.” she admits. “Typed Mara in and that was it. No idea what we would have done if they were expecting something more complicated for an ID, but I guess the First Ones weren’t worried about industrial sabotage… or had many people named Mara on the planet.” Adora narrows her blue eyes and turns to the floating face.

“What is this place?” she asks, tone clipped, all business. The holograph remains unaffected, staring off beyond Adora. She waits for a moment, and then frowns, waving her hand in front of its line of sight. “Hello? What is this place? You know, the building?” she tries again, a little louder. Catra smirks, her eyes twinkling. She steps forward and she rests a hand on her delightful girlfriend’s shoulder. 

“What is this place?” Catra repeats, and the blank eyes snap to her.

 _ <<This is Central Space Port 02. You are at ship service diagnostic station D-19. How else may I aid you, Squad Leader Mara?>> _ Looks like as far as this place is concerned, Catra is now more important than She-Ra. She can’t help a little purr at that, especially as Adora pouts, looking personally affronted at how the computer is ignoring her. Swift Wind goes to poke the holographic face with his horn, and it flutters and wavers like static, but it ignores him too. 

“Ask it where everything went?” Adora suggests, and Catra flicks her ear. Interesting, but not the most relevant thing here. She taps a fingertip on her lip.

“Are there any security monsters.. uh… robots left in the building?” Catra asks, uncertain what the First Ones would call those creatures that probably weren’t actually alive. But as long as the system figured out what she meant, the answer would be much more valuable than where all the boxes were sent. They can figure out the history of what was shipped in and out of here once they know they aren’t about to have some chainsaw mouthed horror stumble on them. 

_ <<There are no security robots available. There is one unregistered robot. The last access of the system by security was 27 Mos 3402, 2 million, seven hundred thirty seven thousand, five hundred sixty two days ago…>> _

Melog is pacing back and forth as the hologram talks, their tail swishing. Discomfort is radiating off of them, growing, until their head snaps over to Catra and they growl, softly. _Robot?_ Catra's eyes meet their teal ones. She can feel their concern and mirrors it. It would be too much to hope that anything the First Ones' left behind would just be broken down and harmless. Catra might dislike the ancient race but they built things to last. Particularly murderous things.

“On it,” she says, and Melog nods, turning and dashing off, heading towards the other side of the room. Catra’s gaze darts around to peer through the gloom. Nothing appears to be moving. Yet. Already in sync with her thoughts, Adora doesn't waste time asking questions, and flashes back into She-Ra again, as smooth as breathing. She nods to Swift Wind, who swings her up in a motion they’d clearly done a thousand times. He whinnies, and they gallop off down the quarter-mile length, the thunder of hooves echoing in the vast space. 

Catra drops to all fours and dashes over the slick floor, claws out, peering into each service port, Melog mirroring them on the other side. Tail slashing, she snarls at how slow this was, and switches to hopping from shelf unit to display pillar to tool rack to shelf unit. Tossing up dust, old tools drop to the floor and terminals blink to life, but nothing lurches out from any of the nooks or corners. She-Ra and Swift Wind come galloping back, and Catra hops down. 

“It’s all clear down here! Maybe it’s in one of the side rooms! Don’t worry though, Swift Wind and She-Ra are ready to kick some robot butt!” the alicorn calls out, sliding to a stop, wings out. Catra shakes her head and rubs the back of her neck, not looking forward to the search.

"I didn't see anything, either, maybe Melo..." she starts to say, and gasps as she feels something at her thigh, but it's merely Melog, swift and silent. They press against her, winding around her in tight circles. 

_We should leave._ They say, their mane licked with white. Catra’s eyes flick from them to the room and back.

“What did you find?” she asks, clipped, quick and low, as if Swift Wind hadn’t already alerted whatever was in the building to their presence with every noisy word and motion. Melog shakes their head, back and forth, wide eyes looking from Catra to the room and back again.

 _Nothing.. It.. this is not safe. We should go. I have to go._ They pace back and forth in front of her, like they’re trapped at the end of an incorporeal rope, unable to move away from Catra but incapable of staying. Regardless of what Melog did or didn’t see, if the building isn’t feeling right, they have to go, Catra can see that. She can feel that. Melog is three breaths away from panic.

“Okay, we’re going, I’ll tell the others,” Catra says, fast and soft, trying to be calming, to project reassurance, but the alien cat pulls away. She can already feel the deluge of negative emotions pouring from them, overwhelming her and making her head throb. Their mane wobbles as they shake their head, fast and sharp, like a fly is circling their face. 

_I have to go! I cannot be here! It’s not right, I don’t understand…_ and with that, they bolt towards the hallway, winking out of visibility so fast even Catra can’t follow the change. She hisses under her breath, her headache clearing as they vanish. Looking to She-Ra, still glowing and battle-ready, Catra holds out her arm. As Swift Wind stamps and starts into a trot, a strong hand reaches down for Catra’s own, swinging her up on his back and in front of Adora. Her eyes try to penetrate the veil of illusion Melog cast over themselves, but it’s no good. She can’t even detect the glow of their magic over the furnace of power behind her, She-Ra overwhelming her nascent sensory ability like a floodlight would kill her night vision. 

“Melog, wait! Don’t worry, I can fight the robot if you need me to…” Swift Wind calls after the vanished alien, tucking his wings down as he speeds up to a gallop, but already they see the door at the distant end of the hall slide open into the jungle, and then close. Catra can feel Swift Wind’s heart pound, smell an acrid edge of fear and worry shedding from his coat that she’s never noticed before.

Far behind them, barely audible over the clattering of Swift Wind’s hooves and his frantic calls, Catra can hear the flat voice of the ancient computer say _ <<Status update, there are now no unregistered robots in the building. Do you require anything further, Squad Leader Mara?>> _


	8. Chapter 8

The tangled trees of Plumeria are fragrant and dense, above all, empty of Melog when they exit the former First Ones’ spaceport. Swift Wind spins on the spot, and Catra yelps, only Adora’s hand keeping her from toppling off as he rears up a little, spreading his wings. 

“Melog! Come back!” he calls, and Catra flattens her ears down, trying to dampen the bellowing. 

“Fuck, this was a mistake.” she growls, trying to spot the telltale movement of leaves or birds startling to pin where the alien might have gone. “I never even got them to explain what caused their last panic attack and I managed to lead them straight into a second one!” 

“It’s not your fault, Catra! None of us could have known they’d react this way, not even Melog did,” She-Ra says, but her voice is just a little less strident than usual. Just a little worried herself. Which means she’s very worried indeed. Catra knows Adora too well to not see that. She-Ra was a persona, an alter-ego, a power, but also, sometimes, an act. A mask of self assurance hidden in magic and muscle. Adora rarely let the mask drop and usually only around her friends. Usually only around her, even back in the war. 

“Panic attack!?” Swift Wind says, turning his neck to try and look and them. “Melog didn’t tell me anything about that!”

Catra wants to snap something sharp, and nasty. Wants to point out that Melog told Swift Wind a _lot_ of things but the horse didn’t actually _understand_ them at all. But the look on his stupid, horsey face, the pain, and the stink of his stress cuts her words short.

Swift Wind’s voice grows softer. “Why didn’t they tell me about that…” he asks them, pleading for an answer. Catra sighs. That settles it. Catra reaches out and pets, carefully, over his dumb glowing mane. 

“I don’t think Melog wanted to think about it. They had a really rough day yesterday and ...uh.. You were being a good distraction.” she admits, the words like acid on her tongue. But it was true. “They just wanted to mess around. Not think about the bad stuff. Pretend it didn’t happen. So, yeah, not your fault either for not knowing.” Her laugh is sharp and low. She knows where they got _that_ from.

She feels Adora’s lips on the top of her head and she freezes. She’s still not exactly used to She-Ra, but she doesn’t hate it. She gives the restraining arm a squeeze as Swift Wind stops dancing on the spot, and after tightening her hug for just a moment, Adora lets her hop off. Catra looks out into the forest, and tries to feel anything, any trace of Melog. She even tries seeing if she can feel anything of their emotions, but nothing.

“Should we try from the air?” She-Ra asks, and Catra frowns, shaking her head. What would they even search for, a patch of nothing?

“No, but I need you to ease back on the She-Ra thing right now, Adora, “ Catra says. She-Ra arches an eyebrow but compiles, melting back down into the Adora Catra is more used to. And when she does, her magic no longer blazes out over the landscape. Catra closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath, trying to look for.. Something. It’s a long shot. Glimmer, a master mage and magical princess had taken a long few minutes to realise she'd been magically duped by Melog _in her own castle_ , so what hope did Catra really have here? But it’s not like merely _looking_ for Melog would work. She takes a few tentative steps forward, blind, and she hears Adora shush Swift Wind as he’s about to talk, probably to ask what she’s doing. She’s not even certain what she’s doing. It’s a hunch. An instinct she’s only starting to know she has.

The forest around them stinks of life, of trees and animals Catra’s unfamiliar with. Adora looms behind her, her own scent as warm and personal as a hug, tinged with concern. Swift Wind is musky and acrid and mossy, but she can tune him out. She’s not interested in scents, nor even sounds, right now. Instead, she tries to feel those subtle eddies and flows of the sea of magic that soaks every inch of the landscape.

The land around her is very similar to the one seen by her eyes and sensed by her very finely tuned nose, but it does have notable differences. For one, now the canker sore on the landscape that is the First Ones’ building is blatantly clear to her, a dark sinkhole in the thick syrup of natural magic that clung to everything else. The animals and birds are sparkling notes. Seen under the light of magic, Swift Wind is absolutely not a horse in a way his stable-scented body doesn't reveal to her nose. But these are all what Catra is expecting to see, to sense. 

The Whispering Woods feel natural to Catra in a way that she can’t fully explain. She also couldn’t explain, before, why the jungles of Plumeria were much less comfortable in her visits. Sure, the trees are thick, but they’re not quite as actively sentient as the Woods seem to be. The magics they have are protective, but they’ve never attacked Catra specifically like the woods around Bright Moon have tried. But now, finally reaching out like this, taking their magic in, it’s clear for her.

Adora, of course, feels natural, because she’s _She-Ra._ All of the magical universe, really, is her home. In contrast, Catra can now perceive how the ripples of the magic of this kingdom crash into her, as if she’s an unexpected rock in a clear pond. The soft magics of the land are languid, almost sleepy, and Catra isn’t a creature of that mood. When she lets herself calm down, when Perfuma soaks their space in heady incense and soothing tones, she can sink to the bottom of this pool, and pretend she belongs for a little while. But this jungle would never feel quite like home. She holds onto that, that awareness of otherness. And then, almost an itch at the back of her mind, she can discern another ripple, a hint of something not-quite-right. She turns and takes a step, before feeling her palm press against a tree. 

Catra opens her eyes and peers up into the branches, the thick and heavy limbs even larger than many in the Whispering Woods, a testament to the natural magic of Plumeria. She can’t see anything different, no scent, no sound, but there’s a disturbance, almost outside of her senses. 

“Well, at least you didn’t run as far as I tend to,” she says, softly. It takes a long, silent moment, and Catra fears she had just been lying to herself, imagining, but Melog slowly fades into view in the deep shadows, their deep teal eyes staring down at her. Catra gives them a tentative smile, tail twitching softly, ears splayed. Melog mrows faintly in reply, and leaps down, tackling Catra to the ground, knocking the wind out of her. Groaning, she pets over their back. 

_I needed to go, the place felt wrong. Threatening!_ Melog tries to explain, pressing their cheek to hers and rubbing over and over. Catra smiles weakly as Swift Wind trots up, snorting and stamping, Adora trailing after with her own apologetic little smile, as if to say ‘Sorry, couldn’t keep him out of your moment’.

“Melog don’t panic you never need to panic I’m here and I’m not panicking!” Swift Wind blurts out in a panic. Catra sighs and just keeps petting Melog, rubbing her own cheek to theirs in reply. Adora smiles at that. Catra knows she understands. When they were little kids, Catra used to do this when they would cling to each other when one of them was upset. Adora kneels down to rub a hand over Melog’s back as well, and they turn to press into her so hard that Catra suspects they’re picking up a bit of that childhood memory. She slowly sits back up, smiling as Swift Wind fusses over her friend as well. Dumb horse.

“Catra says you’ve been having panic attacks! You should talk to us about what’s bothering you,” Swift Wind says, swishing his tail and attempting to nuzzle the nebulous mane. Catra holds up her hands, her ears tipping back, feeling her throat tighten as she glances between Melog and the horse.

“They don’t need to talk about it, it’s fine.” she says quickly, not wanting to make things worse. She doesn’t want to pressure Melog, back them into a corner, make them run again, or fight. She knows what that’s like only too well, and if Melog is becoming like her…

“Well that’s kinda dumb. I mean, they need to at some point. How are we supposed to help them if we don’t even know how they’re upset?” Swift Wind says, and Catra wants to smack his stupid big smug horse face. He was so much like Adora in the worst ways, she swears.

“Because that could make them freak out more!” she tries to explain, her voice sharper than she wants it to be. Melog has stopped, looking at the pair, and Catra forces herself to try and relax. They were still linked, after all. Swift Wind rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, but then we’re here, aren’t we? We’re the perfect people to share with, and if they _do_ get upset better among friends, am I right? That’s what I would want.” he asserts. 

“Well, Melog isn’t you, Swift Wind! You don’t even know what they feel.” Catra says, her voice low. Swift Wind looks offended, snorting and snapping his tail, his feathers ruffled.

“That’s why I wanted to ask!” he whinnies sharply, “Because they’re my _friend_ and I want to know how they feel! Sure, maybe my animal companion bond isn’t as strong as I thought it was, but I never expect to just read their _mind!_ I can’t even read _Adora’s_ mind. I need to, you know, talk?” He gives Catra a pointed look. Catra opens her mouth, then closes it. Melog has been learning from her, but Melog isn’t her either. She turns to them, and sees their mane is teal now, their posture much more relaxed.

“Well, _do_ you want to talk about it?” Catra asks, and they look between the old building, and the group, and to her shock they nod. 

_Not here, though._

Catra gets up, checking her top for purple grass stains. “Alright. Back home?” Melog shakes their head. _I have an idea of the right place._

* * *

  
  


“Can Perfuma understand them?” Adora asks, needlessly, since Catra can’t imagine why she would think that Perfuma would. If Adora, the one person on the planet who understands Catra best, can only just get the gist of Melog, and not even always, what hope did plant girl have?

They’re high in the air now, headed for the heart of Plumeria. Catra is sitting in front of Adora this time, wanting to keep Melog in her arms, now the size of a small cat once more. It means she can’t hide her face, but she tries to focus on the back of Swift Wind’s neck as much as she can.

“I can translate, Adora.” Catra points out. 

“And me!” Swift Wind says, and Catra sighs. They’re going to have to sort this out, sooner or later. “Though I don’t know why we need her specifically, I’m a very good listener.”

“Melog’s been with me for all my visits. They know Perfuma and even if she doesn’t understand them, she’s, you know. Soothing. I guess.” And a little bossy and sure of herself and occasionally high strung, but honestly, Catra did enjoy the time they spent together when they weren’t accidentally opening up wounds. She sneaks a look down, the trees still unfamiliar to someone used to traveling Plumeria on the ground, but she does recognize the rough and organic roads, added during and after the war years, a concession to outer trade. It wasn’t that far away from the heart of Plumeria, apparently, but it was still going to be a short flight. She goes back to focusing on Swift Wind’s mane.

“Well, she is very nice. And her people give me all the flowers I can eat when I visit. I prefer apples, though,” Swift Wind says, his powerful wings sculling the air. 

“You know those aren’t supposed to be for snacking,” Adora says, with a laugh.

The heart of Plumeria is unlike most other kingdoms, in that the seat of power and main settlement barely looks different from any other part of the land, especially from the air. The green canopy hides the natural homes of the locals, and only the bright rosy Heart-Blossom, standing tall about all the others, acts as a certain landmark to head towards. 

As they approach the massive tree, Catra glances down again. She can see Plumerians waving up at them. She doesn’t have to turn around to know Adora’s waving back, but she doesn't join in, still gripping Melog tightly. Swift Wind banks down in a wide circle, and stalls in place, flapping, to toss his mane before landing in a far more dramatic fashion than he really needed to.

"Never fear, Swift Wind has arrived!" he says, and winks. Catra finds herself wondering if she should ask Mermista for advice on how to deal with unbearably dramatic idiots. Children swarm around him, wanting to touch his wings and mane. When Melog jumps down and grows, they’re also surrounded by tots, climbing on their back and trying to grab their misty tail. And the adults, parents and otherwise, eagerly greet Adora and Catra. Catra will never understand the Plumerians. She sees them nearly every week, and she can't possibly be novel. After so many visits, Catra can even greet them all back by name, a trick even Adora doesn't manage. Yet they _still_ bring flowers to sling around her neck and for her hair, and act like it's been years and they're happy she's there, for some reason. Adora gets the same treatment. She tries to dodge the garlands, and sighs as she’s anointed with them as well. Melog purrs as a new flower is tucked behind their ear, replacing the one from before, lost somewhere during their picnic.

“Adora! Catra! Melog, and Swift Wind! How unexpected but welcome!” sings out one of the Plumerians, a woman Catra knows as Pansy. The Plumerians have a very loose society, and official roles seemed to be more based on families and rituals, but sometimes actual work needed to be done. Pansy wasn’t any more skilled at, say, international politics or trade than any other person in the tribe, but what the tall, green haired woman did have was an excellent memory, never forgetting even the most minute detail of any deal. So she tended to act as an unofficial secretary for Perfuma for more official inter-kingdom activities. 

“We were in the neighborhood...” Catra says, as one of the muscular and aggressively friendly men (Balm, 24, likes checkers and kitties) plucks her needlessly off of Swift Wind to help her down. She doesn’t fight it, instead sighing and going limp. Catra’s discovered hissing at Perfuma’s subjects is never worth the talking to she gets later from the flower princess. Adora’s expression seeing her being manhandled clouds immediately, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline, her gaze suddenly intense. Catra smirks and finds herself wishing she’d brought Adora along _ages_ ago to these sessions. After all, who needs to hiss when She-Ra will politely and not at all scarily remind Balm of who’s girlfriend he just grabbed?

Adora wiggles free of her own aid, muttering “She-Ra, remember, I can get down from my _horse_ …” Still glaring as Catra’s put down by the friendly fellow. And.. yep, there she goes, flashing into nearly 8 feet of luscious, muscular champion of Etheria. She-Ra takes one step towards the ignorant man, eyes flashing electric blue, muscles tensing, but she’s miscalculated how her change would be received. Catra snorts out laughing as Balm practically tackles her in an excited hug with his other buddy, stars in his eyes. She-Ra’s quickly overwhelmed by attention, struggling against it feebly as even more flowers are pressed on her. Swift Wind, at least, seems in his element, happily leaning forward to let blooms get braided into his mane as he steals one to eat. 

“You people sure know how to make a girl feel welcome,” Catra says to Pansy, watching the gentle chaos. “Do you know if Perfuma is free?” 

“She's almost always free for friends, but yes, she doesn’t have anything urgent today.” Pansy says, “And she’s not visiting her fiancee.” Catra’s tail flicks a little, but her expression remains impassive. It’s taken a lot to get used to hearing that. If she’d had to guess who of the group would have gotten engaged the fastest after the war, Scorpia would not have been her bet. Sure, she really couldn’t imagine a more suitable partner for Scorpia, and the couple were talking kids, _already_ . But it still stings, sometimes, being replaced. _That,_ at least, she’d never spoken to Perfuma about. Spinnerella ended up being the best ear for that embarrassing sob story, assuring her that it was normal to feel rejected sometimes even if you hadn’t wanted the person in the first place. Relationships and friendships were messy.

And, of course, Melog had been the one to encourage her to tell someone. They stayed with her as she poured her confused heart out. Catra looks at them, hoping she can be as good a friend in return. Melog’s laying down on their belly now, letting the littlest Plumerians crawl over them. Catra can’t help a fond smile. At least she knows one of them who’ll be up to babysitting flower scorpions in the future. She flicks her ear, and they carefully get up, trotting over to her, three children still draped over their back.

“You’re going to have to ditch the stowaways this time,” Catra reminds them. With a rrrmp, they allow her to free them of the cargo. She’s about to ask Pansy if she could fetch Perfuma, but before she can, she hears an excited squeak, and turns to see the flower princess hugging Adora-as-She-Ra as well. Catra laughs, setting down a chubby violet haired baby on the ground. Perfuma’s never hidden her appreciation for the tall and muscular in her life, but at least she now has Scorpia to focus most of those energies on. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Perfuma says, hanging off of She-Ra for a moment before dropping down. She claps her hands together, looking between them all. “I’ll get some tea going, and we’ll get you some apples, Swift Wind.” 

“Fank oo..” says the steed, a few rose petals dropping from his mouth. “I am a bit peckish.” Adora shrinks back down and everyone around her lets out a small disappointed ‘aww’, except Perfuma, who’s probably trained herself not to, and Catra, who always prefers her girlfriend to her magical alter ego.

You can’t rush Plumerians, though, and you certainly can’t rush Perfuma. So they’re ushered into her massive tent, even Swift Wind, and tea is brewed and fruit is found. More than apples, there’s a variety of bright fruit that Adora and her steed snack on, but they're not to Melog or Catra’s taste. So something they would like, which is still very much made of plants but had more umph to it, is then brought out for them, some sort of vegetable jerky. Pillows are fluffed, incense lit and then finally, when the flower princess has finished fussing and they’re all sitting around in her den, she asks why they’ve visited. 

“I’d like to think it’s a social visit, but Catra doesn’t want to risk being unwelcome and Adora won’t take time off to visit unless it’s on her schedule,” Perfuma says astutely, giving them a pointed look over her tea. Catra huffs, grinning a little. The hippy dippy princess isn’t as smart as she thinks she is, but Catra admits she has them dead to rights here. 

“Yeah, got it in one. Melog’s been having a hard day, and they wanted to come here before they talked about it.” Catra says, rubbing over Melog’s head and neck. Perfuma’s eyes light up, and a flush touches her freckled cheeks. 

“I’m so honoured to be a trusted refuge! I’m always here for _any_ of my friends.” she says warmly to Melog, who purrs softly in reply. Perfuma shifts to look at Melog specifically, putting her tea down and clasping her hands in her lap in what Catra knows as her ‘helpful listening’ pose. The room isn’t silent as they wait for Melog to talk, Swift Wind noisily eating, soft music and wind chimes playing, the sounds from outside trickling in through the heavy fabric, but Catra has to fight not to break it with her own explanation on why they’re here. This was Melog’s time to speak, after all. Melog looks at the Catra, and then at the rugs they’re sitting on, stretching their toes and kneading slowly, deep in thought. Perfuma waits, expectant, before murmuring “Are.. they speaking right now?” Catra frowns.

“No, they.. You can hear when they talk, Perfuma.” she notes, rubbing behind one of Melog’s ear spikes. Melog mrps in agreement. She can feel them relaxing in the space though, the mellow air around them heavy with scent, making her feel sleepy. She feels her tail slowly twitch and her eyes threatening to close as well. While the thick, bright atmosphere around Bright Moon brings her energy, Plumeria always feels lazy and slow. Ideal for mediation.

“Of course. Sorry. Feel free to take your time, Melog.” Perfuma reassures them, and only the slightest twitch of the plants around the edges of the silken tent betrays her embarrassment. Melog gives Catra one more look, before starting, going slowly and pausing often to give Catra the time to relay their words. 

_I have been dealing with strange emotions for some time now, but they have become more troublesome in the last two days_ , they start. Catra can see Perfuma quivering to make a suggestion off the bat, so she holds up a finger. _I have been trying to consider things specifically, and I believe the issue is I am not supposed to be feeling such things._

Perfuma absolutely can’t restrain herself on hearing that, and quickly says, bright and encouraging, “Your feelings are always valid, Melog. You’ve been here often enough to know even negative emotions have a place in your mental space. It’s better to accept them and work through them!” Melog takes it impassively, tail swishing slowly. 

_I understand this is the case with you, and Catra, and others. But I should not be feeling anything. It’s an error._ Perfuma clicks her tongue, and takes on a slightly patronizing air that Catra knows she doesn’t mean to do. Too confident in her emotional wisdom, by half. Still, everything Catra had been trying with Melog was something she’d learned from the flower princess. She has to respect that. And much like Melog had been there when something was accidentally hurtful in their sessions, Catra can be here for them, should this all be too much.

“Melog, you need to be more kind to yourself. _Everyone_ feels things! You’re not some sort of machine, after all.” she notes. Melog tilts their head.

_But...I am? At least, that is probably one word Etheria would use for me._

Catra’s throat grows dry, and she knows she should just repeat what Melog said, so she does, voice wavering. Swift Wind’s chewing stops and she can feel Adora shift closer to them both. Perfuma gives a nervous laugh, looking over the large, cat shaped alien.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” she says, looking between Catra and Melog. Catra’s hand tightens on Melog’s neck, just slightly, trying to reassure, but for once, nothing about them seems confused, or panicked. She laughs, dry and flat, at the absurdity of it all. But she can’t say she was shocked.

“I guess we owe Sparkles an apology.” Catra says. “After all, she was the first one to guess Melog was a robot.” And even so, Catra was aware _some_ robots had feelings. Especially after Entrapta gets her hands on them. But Perfuma looks affronted by the use of the term, sitting up straight, her tone more brisk and the colour on her cheeks more from shock than delight.

“Catra! I can’t believe you’d say that! Melog is _full_ of life, and emotions! Surely you can feel that, you’re _bonded_ to them.”

 _Ah, yes, I probably should not be alive._ Melog says, in such a matter of fact tone it makes Catra hiss through her teeth. Her eyes snap down to them.

“ _Don’t_ ,” she says, her voice tight. “Don’t you dare say that. Perfuma’s right. You can call yourself a machine, but you’re very alive. I can feel that, and so can you.” She fights a sting in her eyes and blinks back a threat of tears, knowing she should tell the others what they said but unable to repeat such a harsh thing. Melog paws slowly at the rug, then lays their head down on their paws.

_I feel like you are linking emotional context to the word that does not exist for me._

Adora slips close, and her hand rests on Melog’s haunch, gentle and loving. “Melog, we tried looking up your people when you were upset yesterday, and we couldn’t find anything. But we really want to understand. Do you think you can tell us about them? About you?” Melog looks strained, and their eyes flick down.

_I do not remember. The years passed like a dream, and I forgot, and nothing changed. I cannot remember what I know. I cannot remember how I know. For so long, it had been a time of smoke and emptiness, until you all came._

The group is silent as they are given Catra’s translation, absorbing the words. Adora’s hand never leaves Melog’s back. Swift Wind shifts and settles down, encouraging his friends with open, earnest eyes. Perfuma simply takes it in. Catra finally breaks that stillness.

“That’s not completely true, though, is it? Not anymore.” Catra tries to be gentle, to let her love for her friend flow though her words, but she’s lied to herself for so long, it’s easy to spot it in Melog. “You’re starting to remember, and when you do it’s too much…” 

It was so easy to try to forget, but things can only stay buried for so long before they fester. Maybe it was different for Melog. She doesn’t doubt some things might be so lost in the deep past they really are locked away forever. But echoes seem to be coming back. A rock had fallen into their smooth pond, and the ripples were spreading. 

Melog looks between them all, their mane flickering between tones. Catra can feel the unease leaking through their bond, the worry, the hope. All Melog, now. They look to Catra the longest.

_Promise you will stay with me? No matter how broken I may be?_

“Promise,” Catra pledges again, wrapping her arms around their neck. And with that reassurance, they finally begin to recall the shadows of their past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does pushing the actual story of Melog's memories to the next chapter count as a cliffhanger? I hope not, I'm trying to not make every other chapter end in one.
> 
> This is easily the hardest chapter I have written so far. I had this outlined to go an entirely different way in the middle, struggled for 4 days with it, woke up Friday morning with the realization 'this is all wrong and I need to rewrite it NOW' and only just figured out how I wanted to wrap it up tonight. Nothing like tossing out over three thousand words!
> 
> Also added a rough chapter count for the remaining length of the fic to let people know what they're in for, in case they think we're ending soon. It may go up or down by a couple, but we're about a third of the way done.


	9. Chapter 9

Melog isn’t certain, but they think they can remember a time before the first change. The trees were thick and their branches fat and spongy or thin and jelly-like. The flowers popped from the ground, combing petals through the air to capture magic, before hiding away. Bushes opened their barrels at dawn, looking like cups and vases dotting the landscape, and breathed in the rich air, taking in enough to be left glowing at night. Mosses carpeted the ground to the indigo-violet waters of the ocean. 

Beasts combed the air and shifted over the ground. The smallest hummed, birds that were jewel-like and fast, chasing every mote and hiding in the smallest hollows of tube-plants. The largest swept foam up from the broad fields as they pass, whipping it into the air as they migrate, pulling the offspring of the plants with them, ready to create new prairies even as they eat the old ones. Melog remembers watching them, they think, laying on one of the broad flat shelves of a golden tree.

When the first ship arrived, sharp and strange, humming through the air to gently touch down, Melog wasn’t there. Nor the second. They did not see the beings walking from it, or how they took off their helmets and breathed in deeply. They did not watch them dip fingers in inky water or jump in surprise at the flowers as they tickled at their feet. They did not see their reactions to the odd creatures that slowly approached the unusual ship, poking it lightly with their waving fronds. They did not see how the bristly snakes peeked around their boots and the great flyers circled the landing. They did not see how everything was catalogued, recorded and valued, and sent to a distant world.

It was many ships later, now leaving pink trails through the sky, when Melog saw their first alien. They do not remember what happened then. They only remember that life was divided between before, and after. 

Before didn’t matter, they were told. After was what was important. Because after the First Ones arrived, there was purpose.

* * *

“Don’t let it freak you out. They’re clever but harmless.” the man tells the woman. The man, Melog has seen around for many months now. The woman is new, and smells of space, even more metallic than the buildings growing up around them. She is even wearing a protective suit. Melog lifts a hand up and gives a wave.

“Ahh!” she says, jumping back, and giving them a look. “Ugh, it’s creepy. Modification is so unsettling. Does _everything_ here look like it?” The man shakes his head, gesturing to the distant forest. Two huge flying beasts circle the makeshift town, curious, before heading out to sea, their ephemeral wings shimmering and translucent. Smaller birds flit around, looking for things to eat.

“No, no, these were just easier to modify than the big boys they have here. You have to remember, this colony isn’t even a decade old. We’ll probably work on some of the cuter things later, if we ever need to. They’re so damn useful. Say Hello, Melog.”

_Hello, sir. Ma’am._

The face on the woman becomes, if anything, worse, and she backs away. “Telepathy?” she asks, spitting the word like something sour. The man looks surprised, and glances at Melog.

“I thought they were speaking normally?” he says, confused. She sighs, and mutters something, before speaking more clearly and gesturing at Melog.

“It’s making sounds, sure, but if you listen closely, it’s not actually speaking properly. Ugh! Well, as long as it’s in the mines and not near me, I don’t care. Show me to my quarters?” 

The man gives Melog a pitying look, but leads the new arrival away to the recently built barracks. Melog can hear him point out, even from a distance, “That one isn’t for the mines. You better get used to them, we use them everywhere here.”

* * *

Melog remembers the mines. Mondor was once a lush island out in the bay, but as more and more First Ones arrived, the trees were stripped and it became a rock pushing high from the ocean. Melog remembers so many going there, and not returning. The ports were full of them being sent out, and boats returning heavy with strange rocks and sparkling minerals. Melog has never seen the blood and bones of the world before, the glowing crystals fat with magical potential, the rich oils that gleam iridescent violet and speak of restrained power. And now they leak from far below out of the wound on the world. Being near them makes Melog feel dizzy, and strange. They wonder what happens to those who go to the mines and do not return. They ask, but get no answers.

* * *

“Melog! Get over here and unload the ships.” Melog is used to the smell of space now. Melog feels like it should remember other smells, but they fade more and more each day. It is just the smell of the spaceships, larger and larger, coming in and bringing things, and taking things. They could have fit several of the boats that hover over the water in their holds. The settlement is now a town. More and more of the people were arriving, and Melog had many tasks to do. It was good to fulfil them, and Melog derives something from doing so. They feel blank when there is nothing to do, like a stone.

_Yes, sir. Where shall I take these?_

The man clicks his tongue and his brow wrinkles. The man has been here for a year, and his beard has grown as the forest has shrunk away. The man tells Melog what they should do, but seems less happy about that each day. Melog does not understand why. Tasks are done. 

“The left warehouse, shelf B3, beside the ones labeled… ugh, just stick them on the third shelf to your left. Fuck, they should have taught you to read before they stuck you with me. Go get one of the newbies to do it when you’re done, I can’t read out every label to you every time.”

Melog nods solemnly. Newbies means a newer worker, recently to Krytis. 

_I will get the newbie to teach me to read. Understood, sir._

They go to get the boxes. The boxes smell of metal and space. It takes all afternoon to finish. They are satisfied. Then they go on to their new task.

* * *

The deep forests with their teal and lavender and ruby plants were stripped back to the dusty indigo and grey of the rocks, replaced with high towers and broad forts and strange temples. The flowers no longer peek out of the ground. Bushes are removed when they grow, long before they can light the landscape at night. Instead, the First Ones replace them with glowing streetlights, still powered by the same magic, but much more regular. Less messy. Melog remembers the small settlement being so full of life, but now it was mostly only tiny things that remain, bristle snakes hiding in holes until the dusk, a rare bush left to grow. The great birds were gone and the strange beasts had not returned from their migration. Melog isn't even sure the prairie is still there, beyond the city. Melog cannot check, and Melog cannot ask questions. The port gleams, clean and well organized. It is a marvel of First Ones' technology, their art and skill. Melog can’t remember the taste of magic in the morning air, and misses the glowing bushes at night.

* * *

“Melog, what are you doing over here?” Melog looks up, and the woman gives them a sharp frown. They had seen a bird, and it had attracted their attention. Melog had felt something like.. a task, but different, when they saw the bird. Instead of waiting like a stone, it made them want to move. They didn’t think it was bad to follow it? But they do not answer her. They have learned it is unwise to answer.

The bird had led them to this place, and they lingered. It had been so long since Melog had seen anything alive like this, and it watched the small bird flit from one spongy shrub to the next, plucking berries free from their holes. It watched them poke them into the deep tube of a plant, little golden heads peeking out from inside, squeaking and eager. It watched two bushes open to feed on the air. Melog does not know this woman, so maybe it is her place. It is a good place. Sighing, the woman pulls up a pad and looks at it.

“Right, let’s see where you actually belong.” she says, sounding tired. Melog waits, patiently. A light flashes over them, and the woman’s frown deepens. “You’re not even from this district! What…. Wait here!” she snaps, looking at Melog sharply. She moves over to a panel on one of the nearby walls. Melog watches, impassive. They haven’t been told not to listen, so they do so.

“Hazar? Yes, I’ve found another, all the way out in the garden district. Fourth this month, it’s starting to get out of hand. What? No, I haven’t contacted the depot, that’s _your_ job. Listen, I’m just here to do my rounds… no, I understand. I’ll bring it back where it should be and mark it. Right, sent the ID to you.” The woman turns, and looks Melog over, before groaning, tapping her pad. “And I can’t even trust you stupid thing to actually go back where you should be, can I? Come on.” 

Melog follows her, through the precise streets of the port city, until they’re back at the warehouse. It is a task they can fulfil without her aid, but it was good to have direction. It avoids further difficulty. When they arrive, the man also looks upset, and tired. And angry, very angry. He has been here for four years. His beard is long and neatly trimmed. His hair is starting to change shades, and lose colour. He gestures roughly to the wall, where four other Melog wait. 

“I do not need you lumps wandering off,” he hisses, waving his finger sharply so that it passes through Melog’s cloud. They stay still, in spite of how unpleasant it feels. They’ve learned it is also unwise to react. He looks through his own pad, and snarls, “Keep this up and you’re on the next ship out of here. You can be some other idiot’s problem. I didn’t come all the way to Krytis for this.” He glares at Melog. “You know, I’m actually important back home? I asked to come out here? And now I’m managing _you_ slag piles.” He spits.

Melog doesn’t want to be set away. Nearly everyone else they have known has been sent away, but Krytis is their home. It is all their home. Or it was, a long time ago. Melog goes to stand with the other Melogs, to wait until the next ship comes in, and needs to be unloaded. Melog tries not to remember wanting anything different.

* * *

Melog is waiting against the wall. The man has been here seven years. His beard is a mess, and his hair grey and lifeless. His face is pale. He looks scared, and watches Melog, eyes wide. Melog watches him. He snaps, “You better stay right there!” Melog does so. There are three other Melog with them. The fourth is in pieces on the ground. 

The panel lights up and instead of one of the many people on the other side, Melog sees a flat, mask-like head. It has been appearing more and more often when the man uses the panel. 

_ <<I am sorry, but communications are being limited due to emergency protocol 2-D. Please state your issue or recipient and your call will be prioritized as is warranted.>> _

“I need security! It’s an emergency! My Melogs are broken! Faulty!”

_ <<Please wait. You are number 27 in queue to speak to security. Is there anything else I may help you with, Quartermaster Duplis?>> _

“Stupid fucking thing! I don’t care what sort of Eternian political garbage this is for, I need to contact security _right now!_ ”

_ <<You are number 27 in queue to speak to security. Is there anything else I may help you with?>> _

“You tell whatever’s fucking monitoring this shit that the Melogs aren’t following orders! They’re dangerous! Move me up the _fucking queue!_ ”

_ <<I am sorry, due to emergency protocol 2-D, your issue is rated at medium priority. Is there anything else I may help you with?>> _

The man smacks the keypad with his hand. The mask disappears. Still watching the Melogs, he slowly moves towards the door, waving a tool at them. “ _Medium priority?!_ They’re mental, I could be killed.” he gasps out, incredulous.

Melog stays still. Melog does not want to end up like the pieces on the floor. _That_ Melog had gone to look out the door. The man had yelled at them. They did not want to listen. Something told them that something out the door was more important. They moved carefully around the man, and the man picked up a tool and hit, and hit, and hit. It was a sharp tool, used to cut open shipments. That Melog made no noise as it fell. None of them made a noise. The man kept hitting. The pieces rest on the floor. 

Melog can also feel something strange outside. They do not know what. They can feel things change once more. It has been so long since change. They want to see. They do not want to be on the floor. Melog waits. The man reaches the door and slams his palm on the pad to open it. It slides open. The man turns to run, and stops, jaw dropping. 

“What the fuck is _that_ up there---”

* * *

Melog remembers the war, but they try not to remember. The man was gone. The woman was gone. The garden was gone. Ships poured out of the ports into the skies only to fall in flames. Fires, fires everywhere, dot the world. But Melog, the many Melog, they remained, abandoned, with one last task left. To fight.

Pale clones drove away the First Ones. The spires they erected were even more damaging than the mines, and the cities, and the losses. They were like spikes through the hide of the world. Designed to take the last of the magic. But even the First Ones struggled to tame the world. Even in their deep delving they wounded Krytis, but could not truly subdue. In trying to do so, they sealed the doom of the cloned race. Krytis had learned that people from other worlds were not friends, but enemies. And in this last indignity, with the very skin of the planet pierced by this new alien menace, the soul of the planet revolted. Krytis screamed.

The death knell of Krytis, in its magical agonies, throbbed and pulsed over the surface of the world, consuming all in its path, flattening the buildings and towers and spires, overwhelming every weapon, and extinguishing every last clone on the surface of the planet. It was over so fast that none could escape, and only the few ships in orbit beyond the reach of the wild magic were able to retreat and report as the world glowed like an ember behind them.

Krytis blazed bright in its last, best hour. And then, stripped of its life, its past and its peoples, Krytis finally perished. 

* * *

The planet was dead. Melog knew this, but Melog had nowhere else to be. Melog had no way to leave. The magic around them feels barren and empty, as meager as the light from the stars above the dead world, and as cold. It feels tired, only just barely surviving its last, greatest task. It does not matter. Once it did, but Melog cannot remember the reason. Melog walks the halls, as they have for time that they no longer track. There were once other Melogs, but they slowly stopped. Now Melog cannot tell them from the other mineral coated rocks. Once they tried. They do not remember why.

Everything is grey. Melog remembers that there had been colours, once, but they cannot remember what they looked like, anymore. They walk the halls. They had tasks, but what they were, they also cannot remember. The ones who tasked them are gone. The ones who chased them away were gone. The spire’s destroyed halls never change. Melog’s path never changes, either. It holds, as it has. As it always will. So Melog walks, and waits, and feels the same stale air. Sometimes they remember shadows, and these shadows feel like others with them. Sometimes they remember deeper, but they made sure not to focus on those times. The times before the colours and the magic faded out.

Time passes, but nothing changes, until, one day, something does. For the first time in a long time, they feel the magic flowing and reacting to others. Melog remembers. They remember change. 

Change is the enemy. 

They remember that they need to hide, and to protect. So they follow the new invaders, and confuse them. The intruders are easily turned around, puzzled and worried. As they press deeper, Melog triggers illusions to frighten and push them away. Melog follows closely, and finally, they are spotted. And then, everything goes wrong. 

The slightest one is all edges and sharpness, and unpredictable. Instead of turning and running like the others seem about to, she tackles Melog with a yell. They flash away, accidentally carrying the alien with them. As they tumble to the floor, Melog sees the invader scramble back in the blue-teal ground, and they can feel their fear. Her… fear, and shock? They feel something strange, a tug they haven't in... they do not know when. It is magic, true and wild. And for the first time in so, so long, they feel the need to change. But even as they feel the spark of memory, they remember enemies. Thieves. Wars. Melog isn't a warrior. They were never one. So they try to push her away. And yet… she doesn’t run. She faces them, still sharp, still fearful but also bold. And then… 

“Achoo!” 

Melog pauses, and the sound… tickles something inside them. They repeat it, and find themselves feeling more. Surprise. Curiosity? They startle, and she startles too, but slowly, more and more feelings flood in. When had those last happened? Was it when the First Ones were driven away? Before? It seems so long ago since Melog last felt anything. It seems even longer still when the feeling last brought warmth instead of ... other things.

Melog looks at the woman... at Catra, and can see she isn't just sharpness and fury. There's softness, ears and tail that are open and friendly, fur that is warm. Catra’s eyes are blue and gold, wide with surprise. Her suit is burgundy and reds and roses, like a sunset. The sparks of magic around them are yellow. Melog doesn’t remember why they stopped being able to see these colours, see this beauty. Even in this dead world, there are _so many_ colours. Even now. Joy fills them, and there is an outlet for it where they had never had one before. For the first time, Melog starts to purr. Reaching out, Catra touches them, and and they press into her hand. Her scent is dusty and friendly and buries even the scent of loss and emptiness. They purr more deeply, because it speaks of hope.

And Catra smiles in wonder.


	10. Chapter 10

The tent was gloomy by the time the last of the story had been delicately pulled from Melog. The daymoon is almost below the horizon, and the light in the room is deep roses and purples through the cloth. At one point Perfuma had gotten up and lit candles and lamps, low tech but comforting. The tea was completely gone, and Catra’s legs ached, but she didn't want to move. 

It’s been a painful time, with many stops and starts, arguments and reactions. At one point, Catra ended up curled around Melog, hissing at Swift Wind as he kept pressuring Melog to explain what happened to them to get them to the point that they were a slave.

Because none of them could deny that’s what Melog had described. Slavery. Only Melog seemed confused by the term. As far as they were concerned, they were no more of a slave than Emily, or Darla. Which, Catra admits, was something she’ll have to think on at a later point. As it was, she gently strokes over Melog’s head, down through the misty mane that was now, again, a pure teal, shifting her legs slightly to try and wake them up without disturbing her friend. 

Adora quietly talks with Perfuma. Now that the worst was past, the flower princess seems, if anything, more emotionally affected by what she’d heard than the rest of them, probably because it was entirely new to her. Adora and Catra at least had some preparation that things would be bad, if only from how badly Melog had reacted earlier.

Swift Wind was pacing back and forth between the pairs, tossing his horn dangerously and threatening the various hanging lamps and banners in the room. The story had gotten awkward at the point where Swift Wind became extremely aware of how he didn’t understand what Melog was saying, but at least he quickly moved past that. Now he was entirely focused on one key point. 

“We need to liberate the Melogs!” he says, half to the group in general and half to the world. “We must help them throw off the shackles of tyranny!” 

“They’re _dead_ now, Swift Wind,” Catra says, her voice sharp and annoyed, before her fur frizzles and her ears flatten when she realises how loudly she said that with Melog on her lap. Adora and Perfuma’s heads snap around as well, and Catra’s cheeks darken as Perfuma’s eyes glisten with tears. “It.. it was thousands of years ago,” she points out, quietly. “And they died on Krytis. I’m.. not trying to be cruel. Sorry.” Melog, at least, is unaffected by that. Swift Wind snorts sharply, smacking a lamp, and Adora automatically reaches up to still it.

Perfuma bites her lip, and looks around, as if only realising how late it is. “I should fetch you all something to eat. We must have been at this for hours…” she says, soft and distracted. Catra gives her a sheepish smile, but her heart warms as Melog looks up. While the story itself had troubled the alien to relay, once told, they seemed much more relaxed. She was going to suggest they just leave; after all, they have taken up the better part of Perfuma’s afternoon and now evening, completely unannounced, but everyone else perks up at the mention of food. Instead, she carefully gets up, hissing softly as her legs sting with pins and needles. 

“I can help with that, blossoms.” Catra says, as she stiffly stretches. She waves away Perfuma’s objections and follows her through the fabric passages to the area that acts as her kitchen. She grabs a knife and Perfuma starts passing her things to cut up, lighting a fire. “Sorry for getting in your space so long like this,” Catra says, deftly skinning some strange green plant, leaving its prickly rind aside. 

“That’s you projecting, Catra. You know I’m not as sensitive about territory as you are, “ Perfuma says, with a small smile as she reaches for a bottle to splash into the pan. “Do the red ones next please and remove the seeds? They need to cook the longest.” Catra nods, flicking the slices she has aside to start on a tough red thing next. They feel like a root but do in fact have flat seeds inside. Perfuma hums in approval. 

When Perfuma first did this in front of Catra, she didn’t think it was anything more than a royal affectation. Like when Glimmer made them foods her mom had taught her on Darla. Sure, the nearly deific Angela knew how to make steamed buns and batter covered meats, but she wasn’t ever expected to actually _feed_ herself. So why would it be different for any of the princesses? But here in Plumeria, Perfuma was far more hands-on. Perfuma would have plates and platters dropped off from others' meals to share with her. But in turn, she always made more than she needed. Scorpia would always help too, big hearted and generous. And, eventually, Catra joined in as well. The work was satisfyingly simple to do. And she found it easier to talk with her hands occupied. 

“You doing all right there, blossoms?” Catra asks the princess, as she flicks the cubed root into the pan, moving on to something aromatic and stinging on her nose. Perfuma swishes more oil into the pan. 

“Oh, well, this burns easily…”she replies, “but that’s not what you’re talking about, of course. Yes. I think so, now. It was just so shocking. I never saw Krytis, so I had no idea, really, how that story would end. Melog just feels like such a warm, empathetic spirit, and to have that in their past...” Catra nods, wrinkling her nose and moving the slices of the sharply scented stuff into the pan as well. They immediately smell wonderful as they hit the oil. “I suppose I feel like I should have sensed something was off at some point…” Perfuma murmurs, and Catra snorts, amused.

“Newsflash, princess, you’re not a mindreader. I didn’t even realise they felt off until yesterday and I spend nearly all my time with them. Besides, I don’t think they wanted us to know. Not if…” Catra trails off, and gives the vegetable she’s dicing a sharp chop. Not if when they ever expressed themselves, things went so badly they might as well have been mute, by the end. It was a wonder they’d even spoken to Catra, at first. Perfuma’s shoulders tense, and she just hmmms in reply.

They work in tandem, Perfuma selecting the order Catra needs to prepare the various plants for their meal, Catra working the knife with quiet expertise. She doesn’t know what the flower princess is planning, but Catra requests some of the mushroom sauce she personally likes be added, which Perfuma obliges. It was weird, having people do things because she’d enjoy them. Well, besides Adora. Eventually, Catra breaks the perfect rhythm.

“Listen, I know you’re not as territorial as I am, but this was still a lot to dump on you out of nowhere. So, thanks.” she says, cutting some green things that are to go in last. Perfuma has added some crushed red fruit, and the scent is making Catra drool. Perfuma smiles, the little satisfied smile she gets when she’s managed a job well done. 

“I was glad to do it. You don’t need a reason to visit, Catra. Everyone here likes seeing you. I admit we didn’t get off on the best foot at first, but I always welcome your unique energies now.” Catra huffs, and goes to wash her hands. 

“You looked ready to have your own therapy session after we got done, princess. Even Adora could see that. If that’s the sort of energies you like, you’re even worse than I am,” Catra says, without too much bite. Perfuma laughs softly. 

“You know what I mean, but if you insist on me verbalizing it, I’m glad we’ve become friends. And friends never need a reason to stop by, here.” Catra’s ears flick aside, and she focuses on her hands. Perfuma always says things like that, and eventually Catra might believe it, but she’s not there. Not yet. Perfuma’s energy, as she’d probably call it, changes after a second. Catra can almost hear her thinking.

“Do you think there _is_ anything we can do? For the other.. Melogs?” Catra’s breath hisses through her fangs.

“Tomb markers maybe? Memorial on Krytis? Short of going back in time to kick some asses, I’m not sure what else we can do for them. They’re dead and gone.” Catra says, pushing her hair back with damp hands. Perfuma sighs, and she covers the pan. 

“You may be right, though maybe don’t mention that last option to Entrapta, she’d probably want to try the time travel idea. She’s very results oriented.” Perfuma notes diplomatically. Catra can’t help but smirk at that description. Her tail swishes slowly. They linger in the kitchen, Catra leaning against a wall, Perfuma pulling up a stool for herself by the fire. They can hear Adora and Swift Wind in the other room, and Catra’s ears twitch as she follows the flow of their words. Normally, Perfuma would chastise her about eavesdropping, unfairly since Catra could hardly help having such good hearing, but even the flower princess can make out Swift Wind as he harangues the universe in general on justice and equality. 

“It just feels so unfair, to have the First Ones have done all that, and now none of it matters because it was so long ago.” Perfuma says, winding a vine around her arm. Catra’s tail flicks. She can tell how unhappy the princess is. Perfuma is practically transparent compared to some of the calculating minds Catra has dealt with in her past, but she must really be suffering if it’s reflecting in her plants. Catra shifts a little closer, and gingerly pets her on the shoulder, hoping the flower princess doesn’t take this as an overture for hugging. 

“Don’t get me started on the First Ones,” Catra says, her voice roughly jovial. “The more I find out about them, the more they seem like the lesser of two evils. Barely.” She smirks, able to make everything that happened with Prime a joke, at least for the moment. Perfuma gives her a weak smile in return. The stone that was the centre of her kingdom’s tree still glowed, but it no longer acted as a pressure release for the magical shackles placed on the planet. In the aftermath of the war, the difference between what everyone had learned about the First Ones and what they’d actually done to Etheria was slowly disseminating. Perfuma and the other princesses were among the first to understand why Adora had shattered her sword, and what would have been the fate of the planet had she not. 

“I’m starting to agree, but it’s awful to consider. Just think, Melog was torn away from whatever their family was, and completely changed to suit whatever the First Ones needed! Can you even imagine?” Perfuma says, passionately gesturing. “They didn’t just steal Melog, they stole their entire culture from them! Their language, their name! It’s just so…” Catra’s claws flex, and she looks away, feeling her throat clench. To distract herself, she goes to stir the simmering food, only to have Perfuma wave her away.

“It’s just so tragic. It breaks my heart. I would probably have _died_ rather than be a slave like that.” Perfuma finishes, with a dramatic sigh. Catra’s heart thuds in her ribcage. Perfuma means well, she really does, but…

“Can't relate, blossoms. I just kept living, even when I didn't want to. I mean, you don’t think I was _born_ a Horde soldier, do you? I wasn't even born in the Horde.” Catra notes, with a dry laugh. Perfuma blinks owlishly at her, and flushes a little when the words sink in. Catra looks away, shrugging. “Catra isn’t the name I was born with. Fuck, I didn’t even know how to speak at first when they took me. I just made, you know, cat noises.” She picks up the fire poker and gives the fire under the pan a rough rake. “One of the kids I grew up with, Rogelio, he never properly learned how to talk common Etherian, he was too old when he was taken, but he was so tough it never really mattered. He could take the written tests and some of the lizard people could speak the old tongue. We all learned a bit of it, too, working with him. Well, except Kyle.” She runs her claws through her short hair, missing her mane. “I learned to talk, though. Obviously. Just as well, too. No one else like me in the Horde that I ever met.” And if she hadn’t, she probably would have had it even _worse._

Catra grows silent, putting the poker down. Perfuma reaches out, gently touching her arm. Catra tenses, her fur prickling, and fights her desire to smack the hand away. “I'm sorry... I didn’t think of…” Perfuma starts to say, but Catra doesn’t want to hear it, so she just carries on talking at the fire instead.

“You just… don’t know things could ever be different. Be better. You don’t feel like a slave. It’s just.. How life works, you know?” Catra gives a short, sharp laugh. “Even when Adora left, I just thought that it couldn’t get better for _me._ Better stuff was something people would happily give Adora, but me? I deserved to be in a shit place like the Horde. Best I could do.” Perfuma’s tongue clicks, and the hand on Catra’s arm tightens, just a little, but she’s mercifully uninterrupted. “Anyway, it’s easy to see how things _should_ be from the outside, but on the inside? You play the game, because it's the only one there is. Adora, Scorpia, me, we all had to leave to get that.” The mention of Scorpia, bringing it back to something she’s sure Perfuma has dealt with many times, seems to land, and the princess gives her an understanding nod. Catra wraps her tail around her own calf. 

“What I'm trying to say is, I get how Melog would have seen things. They don't even understand how abnormal what they went through was. For us, it's terrible, but it’s all they knew.” 

Perfuma purses her lips, and her thumb rubs over Catra’s fur. “Do you ever miss them?” Catra frowns, her ears tilting forward. For once, she can’t figure out where the princess is going with this. Perfuma clarifies, “Your family. Um, the ones from before the Horde.” 

“Can’t miss what you’ve never known, blossoms, “ Catra says with a shrug. “I’m not even sure it’d be worth it to help Melog remember what they lost from before they were taken.”

“You can’t mean that,” Perfuma says, her tone shocked. Catra frowns a little. 

“It was already so hard for Melog to remember what they did.” Catra growls. “Why would I want to put Melog through remembering _that?_ They’ve been gone for thousands of years, so what good would any of it do? My family is _dead,_ Perfuma, that’s the only reason I would have ended up with the Horde. I.. it’s good to not remember them.” She can see Perfuma’s expression cloud, but the princess gets up to check the food instead, and Catra can smell it just on the edge of cooking too far. Saved by the stew, she supposes. 

The stew is doled out into heavy bowls, with half remaining for later, assuming Adora leaves leftovers. Catra manages to balance some bread on her arm and admires how gracefully Perfuma moves even when merely bringing out food. When they return to the central area, Swift Wind is gone, and Adora just gestures to the tent flap. “Grazing.” she explains. Horses cannot live on bread alone, or at all, and he was overdue to have a snack. Melog purrs when their own bowl is set down in front of them, diving in right away. 

“You know, I never thought about it before, but I suppose Melog doesn’t actually need food?” Perfuma says, delicately blowing over her stew to cool it down. Adora already has her mouth full, bread in one hand and stew in the other, so she just shrugs. Catra glances over, to where Melog is muzzle down in their serving. Melog seemed to just eat whatever Catra liked to eat, and she hadn’t really given it any thought. After all, Catra only liked the best sort of food. Pausing, Melog looks up, and mrrps?

 _I survive on magic, but I do very much enjoy eating, if that is acceptable?_ Catra grins a little.

“Don’t think anyone wants to stop you from eating, buddy,” she says, warmly. 

“Oh, absolutely not! It’s always so gratifying when someone enjoys food you made, and you’re always such an enthusiastic eater. I would have thought you bonded with Adora, not Catra,” Perfuma says. On anyone else, Catra would have taken this as a tease, but Perfuma seems incapable of even the lightest intentional barb for fun. Unintentional, perhaps, but she doesn’t share Catra and Adora’s taste for sarcasm. Adora, who looks up, puzzled at her name, cheeks full. “Mmmfp?” 

Catra laughs, and waits until the thick stew cools enough for her to eat, dipping chunks of rough bread into it. Everything tasted so much better when she helped make it, a sensation Perfuma would no doubt attribute to the joys of creation instead of destruction. Whatever, she just knows what she likes to eat. Her tail flicks as she watches everyone else as well, warmth filling her heart, her own purr chiming in with Melog’s for a moment, until Adora looks over and it sputters to a stop, shyly hiding back in her chest. 

When they’re finally finished, it’s deeply dark outside, the stars above bright in the sky, and only two small moons up. Flecks of magic float through the air, among the homes of the Plumerians and through the trees, and they remind Catra of the motes of magic back on Krytis. Melog presses into her side, and she looks down, stroking over them. 

_You are sad, but I’m not sure why._

“I’m sad for you,” Catra tells them, rubbing at the back of their neck. Melog’s tail swishes, and they look up at her, eyes wide with confusion. 

_Does this mean we are now connected mentally, like Swift Wind and Adora?_ Melog asks, and Catra smiles, kneeling down to lightly nose bump the alien.

“It’s called empathy, you dork,” she says, tenderly. Melog prrrps gently, and shrinks down, allowing Catra to scoop them up. Adora is already waiting for them on Swift Wind, clearly eager to leave before the residents realise they’re going and shower her with more heady flowers. Luckily, only Perfuma sees them off, waving eagerly until they’re out of view. The cold night air wakes Catra back up from the dozy peacefulness of the after supper mood, and she strokes over Melog, curled tightly in front of her. In front of them, Catra watches a third moon slip up from the horizon, so bright and clear she feels like she can reach out and pluck it from the inky sky like a coin in a puddle.

The flight back to Bright Moon is silent but for the gentle sculling of Swift Wind’s heavy wings in the air. When they arrive back, the alicorn heads off to wherever he goes, clearly itching for the open sky. So like Adora, Catra thinks, knowing how her girlfriend struggles to sit still for hours and hours in meetings. She supposes Swift Wind wasn’t all bad, if he was willing to do all that for Melog. Melog, who was dead to the world in Catra’s arms, still asleep. 

Their room is back to normal now, even the deep scratch marks removed by judicious magic use from Glimmer. Adora silently gestures to the bathroom, and Catra shrugs, letting her go first, as she sits with Melog, waiting her turn. As the shower starts up, Melog mrrps and shifts, but stays small in Catra’s lap, kneading into her leg. Catra’s hand moves to run over their back in calming passes.

_I’m sorry for being so faulty._

Catra pauses, but returns to stroking over Melog. She hadn’t even realised they’d woken up. She glances down, but their eyes are still tightly closed. Ah. 

“You aren’t. Just because you’re not what people wanted to make you into doesn’t make that your fault.” Catra murmurs, toying down over the cloudy puff of a tail. 

_How can you be certain?_

Catra looks at the bathroom door, where Adora has started singing off tune in the echoing room. She considers the deep night, full of stars, and times before, with a much more empty sky she used to share with only one person. 

“Because that’s what Adora and I have to tell each other, every day.” Her thumb passes back up the small alien’s spine, and she gently bumps their nose. Melog stretches, and makes a soft sound, but calms under her touch. By the time Adora comes back out of the bathroom, steaming from the shower, Melog had fallen back asleep. Adora slides besides them, wrapping a damp arm around Catra’s back, and Catra leans into her, closing her eyes as well. 

“Guess this wasn’t a very good date day,” Adora murmurs, her lips brushing across Catra’s ear. Catra smiles to herself, her tail flicking up and down her girlfriend's bare leg. 

“Trust me, I wasn’t expecting a date with Swift Wind there.” she says, sleepiness making her voice rough. Adora fingers the broad loose neck of Catra’s shirt, and she can _feel_ Adora’s smirk without even opening her eyes. “Fine, maybe I was hoping we’d have a bit of us time too..” Catra grumps, called out. “But it was still a good day.”

“Good?” Adora asks, her hand sliding up and down in slow, tender passes over Catra’s back. 

“Mostly good. Productive.” Catra murmurs lazily. She cracks an eye open just a slit to glance down at Melog, tiny and solid, curled in her lap. “But Melog deserves a better day off than that.” She feels Adora nod in agreement. More than that though, Melog deserved something better, something meaningful. And Catra admits a dark emotion resting in her gut, desiring more than aid, like Perfuma, or justice, like Swift Wind. She’s craving revenge. But the question becomes, what could she possibly do for Melog _now?_


	11. Chapter 11

In an ideal world, Catra would have had more than enough time with Melog, exploring what they’d all learned, helping them with their emotions, discussing mutual experiences. Melog could come to terms with their past, and everything would have been teatime and flowers. But Catra doesn’t even have enough time for her _own_ healing, and Glimmer could only hold off the world for them all for a short while. 

At least Melog is resting under her desk as Catra sorts through reports and paperwork, the important items from the last two days filling her inbox. They laze over Catra's feet, stirring occasionally when her emotions spike, only to settle down. And they spike often, as Catra finds herself getting annoyed at her work frequently. The Rebellion, as she tends to think of it as even now, struggles to keep things flowing. The Horde was about getting someone else to do the work, which at its best allowed for a significant amount of meritocracy and efficiency and at worse had people rise because of combat prowess and then end up forcing their subordinates to handle the details. But at least there was a clear, singular sort of process. Commanders and captains and squads, you knew who you had to speak to and what they were supposed to do.

In contrast, The Rebellion, or rather the Alliance as it has settled on being called, is just a mess. It has multiple ways to manage how things are done, by multiple kingdoms, townships, and villages. Which, sure, good for them, but coordinating things between a culture that expects everything to be handled by royalty with a culture that expects every person to have a say, and throw in another culture that doesn’t want to be bothered at all and just wants all the benefits of the Alliance with none of the work? It’s a headache. The one thing they did agree on is making Bright Moon the official headquarters of it. Which mean that headache becomes _Catra's_ when the other kingdoms can't sort things out themselves.

Technically, Catra has people who can do most of this for her. Strictly speaking, in spite of the clear discomfort over it from many of their allies, Catra is probably the fourth or fifth most powerful person on the planet, without even taking into account her intimate relationship with the most powerful single being in the known universe. She can directly order nearly everyone in the castle, and most of them probably won’t try to kill her for doing so. She _can_ , but she tries not to. Not anymore. Even asking the woman who was given the job of being her secretary to fetch her a file brings up troubling emotions. Reminds her of a nastier, more dismissive, more thoughtless past. A past where she was all about that good ol' Horde technique of making someone else deal with her problems.

For a while, Catra swung hard the other way, personally taking on every single task she could possibly handle. Fighting every comment against her with a snarl and a list of all the things she had done since the end of the war and what have _you_ done, King Darkspur? And she still does. She pushes herself so hard that even Adora sometimes speaks to her about it, Ms. Never Take a Break herself. But at some point, Catra realised she risked making the wrong choices by forcing herself to do everything that came across her table.

Before, Catra delegated because _fuck you._ Now, she does it because no one person can do all this. No one person can KNOW all this stuff. If Adora can’t save every person, Catra can’t expect herself to solve every problem. Even ones she might, in fact, have been responsible for causing. 

Still, Catra tries to personally go through everything herself first. She reads every paper before deciding it’s not her actual job to figure out the particulars of a global communication network, or applying Horde tech to agrarian needs, or difficulties on fishing rights. She makes a sharp note on the last one to look into how Salienas handles that before setting it aside. Glancing at her clock, Catra frowns. Normally she’d be well through all these, but it was hard to focus when her mind keeps slipping back to Melog. Her foot runs over the lazing feline-alien for the dozenth time since this morning, and they stretch.

Under her feet, Catra can feel them move, perking up, and she looks up at her door right before it opens on whisper quiet hinges. Anita, her secretary and the reason her inboxes were filled regardless of what she’d been up to the last two days, comes in with more papers. Most of the people in the palace were long term staff from before the war, but Glimmer made sure to pick neutral people to directly interact with Catra as her immediate subordinates as much as she could. Ostensibly to allow better communication between nations, but practically because almost everyone in the palace had been on the wrong end of Catra’s work or even just _Catra_ in the past. So Anita is a pale, tall, dark-haired woman who apparently studied in Mystacor and dresses like she still lives there, in long black robes and dark lipstick that reminds Catra of Castaspella. She carefully collects the scattered finished papers.

“I believe these ones might be more important,” she notes, setting the finished work aside before handing her a couple of newer forms, placing the rest of the new work neatly at the bottom of her inbox. Catra groans, and rubs her claws roughly through her hair.

“Let me guess, people were yelling at you when they gave you them,” Catra grumbles, taking them and flumping back into her chair. The woman peers over her thick glasses and gives Catra a very neutral look. 

“No, those went to the bottom of your pile. These ones just seem time sensitive, ma’am.”

She looks young, but the streak of white in her hair and the deft way she handles politics suggests she’s probably older than Catra. Either that, or academia in Mystacor was way more dangerous than Catra would have assumed, which might explain the casual way this ‘secretary’ regularly tops up protection spells around Catra’s office among her other tasks. It would be a thankless job, but for Catra ensuring she regularly _does_ thank the woman for her efforts.

Melog stretches and gets up from under the table, rubbing past her leg before moving out to give the secretary a head bump. Anita leans down to pet them without thought as she runs through the rest of the things on Catra’s calendar for the day. That had been a very strict requirement from Catra. Anyone coming into her office on a regular basis, be it a guard or a secretary or a steward or anyone, _had_ to be good with Melog. It was agreed to without question by Glimmer.

“Do you require anything further?” 

Catra’s head snaps up from the paper she’d just been handed. They were, in fact, time sensitive, relating to setting up better routes between the Kingdom of Snows and Dril before their seasons changed, which apparently was a pressing concern. Entrapta was distracted and never looked into this sort of thing, and Frosta was used to isolation, not integration, so it fell to Bright Moon to sort this out. Wonderful. She writes “under-mountain maybe? Look into this, Entrapta.” on the side and puts it down. Anita’s words had reminded her of something, somewhere else.

“I might. Does Mystacor have anything about how the First Ones used magic?” Her secretary seems taken aback, showing more surprise than Catra’s seen on her face in some time. After a moment, it returns to amiable neutrality, all business. 

“We do, but I think you’d be better asking the head sorceress for that information.” she says, before pulling out her tablet. “Shall I set up an appointment?” Catra nods, before thanking her, and the woman slips out. Catra makes sure the door is closed before growling. Perfect, an appointment. Given Catra's schedule, that means she can expect some answers about what was done to Melog no sooner than next month. If she's lucky. If she's not it would just be a meeting to discuss eventually looking into what happened. With minutes. 

The other problem with the Alliance was everything took so long to get done. Sometimes there was literally no other choice but to wait, but other times, it was just people running around in circles. There wasn’t anything she could do to stop it, either. It wasn’t healthy or fun or even efficient by the end, but Catra occasionally longed to go back to when she could yell at someone and they’d have to actually get things sorted _then_ , not sometime nebulous time in the future. Or rather, she longed for the time when doing that wouldn’t have bothered her. It probably wouldn't make a difference, though. Here in Bright Moon there’s no real threat that would work. Nothing that would make shouting anything more than noise. Even Queen Glimmer has to wait for people to get back to her. Even Adora, in her most resplendent She-Raness, has been forced to sit through pointless debates on minutia. 

Catra’s claws drum on the table, and she realises she’s been looking at the page in her hand for several minutes without reading it. As she sighs and sets it down, Melog peeks over the table. 

_I would like to go for a walk._

Catra gives them a look, and smirks. 

“You want to, or you think I need to?”

Melog’s eyes squint a little and they prrr. _I want to, but yes, I also believe you need to as well._ Catra sighs and looks over her inbox. Anita had brought enough new items that instead of shrinking down, it was a finger's width taller than when she started. Her tail flicks as she considers the option, before shaking her head.

“Can’t. Not yet. But _you_ don’t have to stick around here today. It’s going to be pretty dull, unless you have a secret passion for food distribution.” Catra replies with a sardonic smile. She feels like she’s probably used up her goofing off privileges for the week at this point, but that was no reason to lock Melog down. Melog tilts their head and shakes out their mane.

_I haven’t discovered that, no. But I am not supposed to just ‘walk around’ right now. So we both must go for the walk._

Catra hisses under her breath. Right, the agreement from before. Catra had promised Glimmer, and Melog, to stick with them until their emotional reactions had smoothed out. And she can’t even claim that it was unnecessary. They’d seen as much yesterday. Catra can empathize with being blindsided by dark thoughts and bad memories, but at least she knows where they came from. Melog doesn’t even entirely remember what they should be avoiding. Anything could be a risk, anything could throw up a shadow from the past. Nodding, she gets up, stretching backwards and groaning. 

“Fine, we’ll take a short recess but I need to get back to work after. I don’t need Sparkles on my ass.” Catra says briskly, and Melog's expression lights up with delight.

She’d head for the window but _someone_ decided that sneaking out that way when there was work to be done was a problem or something, and it no longer opens. So instead they head out the door, nodding to the guards on duty. When Catra first arrived, she’d assumed they were there to keep an eye on her, just in case. Which stung, but made sense. It took a few weeks to find out the guards at her door were actually guarding her from others. When Glimmer told her that, she practically laughed in the queen’s face. As if people didn’t want her dead every day of her life back in the Horde! Still, the gesture, like the choice of unbiased kingdoms for her staff and the protection spells, was appreciated. Catra wasn’t used to anyone wanting to protect her. Anyone _else_ , that is.

Within minutes, Catra is already feeling more lively for the break and the exercise, and Melog bounds along beside her with a spring in their step. Their walk takes them through the palace, and the gardens, around the library and even through the secret staff corridors, secondary hallways that allowed the less dramatic staff that clean and feed and do a million other little tasks to move freely without being seen. Catra sneaks into them when she can, but unlike tormenting the guards, which is totally fair game, bothering the servants as they try to do their work feels unsporting, and she does her best to remain a shadow. Not so much of a shadow that food doesn’t vanish as her and Melog pass, cloaked in invisibility and as silent as a breeze, but at least she wasn’t tripping the person wheeling the laundry cart or messing up the prep work for tonight’s dinner.

Catra grins and grabs a meat pie as she slips back out from the kitchen, taking a bite as Melog lets them appear right in front of a startled guard walking by. She gives the woman a wink before walking off, tail swishing. Melog’s mouth is covered in crumbs from their own larceny, and they seem just as prim as her as they trot along, the satisfaction rolling off of them so strongly it’s like its own purr. 

_Are you feeling better?_ They ask Catra, needlessly. She grins, rubbing the flakey pastry specks from her chin. 

“Much. You?” she asks back. Melog’s cloudy tail brushes her leg and they make a contented sound, deep in their throat. 

_I am quite happy to be able to move. It is hard staying still for so long if I am not feeling lazy._

Catra’s ears flick and she focuses on finishing the pie rather than replying. The image of Melog, still and waiting, throws up yet another memory of yesterday. She huffs through her nose, shaking her head quickly to shake it loose, but it doesn’t leave her mind. And just like that, the break was for nothing. It was foolish to think she could just forget about Melog's past so easily. She imagines Melog hasn’t either. But perhaps, with luck, she can push it down just long enough today to get through her work. It’s not like she hasn’t managed to get her work done in the past with even more intense and damaging obsessions.

As they round the corner to the office wing, Catra nearly stops dead, her heart jumping when she sees the people waiting in front of her door. Guilt clutches her heart, and her tail slashes. Sparkles _and_ Adora? Of course, she decides to actually give herself an actual break and this happens. Typical. The guilt is overridden by a vague annoyance with the universe for this bizarre karmic punishment. Catra can’t help but feel if she’d lingered in her office all day, she wouldn’t have seen anyone but her secretary. Striding up, she gives them both a look before unlocking her door. 

“Sorry. Waiting long?” she asks them, letting them in, and Adora quickly shakes her head. Glimmer immediately sits on Catra’s desk and picks up her last piece of work, before setting it back down.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” the queen notes, and Catra frowns a little. 

“You know I do, so this better not be about making me feel bad for grabbing lunch, your majesty.” Catra says, tersely, and Glimmer quickly shakes her head. 

“No, no… ah…” Her eyes trail down to Melog, and her cheeks glow pink. She seems embarrassed, and between that and her casual perch on the edge of a desk, she looks younger than she normally does when she’s working from the throne. Adora also looks shifty, blatantly so, and Catra sighs. 

“Okay, spit it out, you dorks. What’s this about, actually?” 

Adora cracks first and blathers out, “I’m so sorry! I told Glimmer all about what happened with Melog yesterday and their story and all that stuff and then I realised I should have asked Melog first so I’m really sorry Melog!” She finishes her confession by giving the confused alien a tight hug. Melog looks as surprised as Catra feels.

 _It was not a secret. I am happy for my friends to know more of who I am. There’s no need to be sorry,_ they say, nuzzling Adora and broadcasting that with warm, friendly sounds.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Melog’s good about that.” Catra reassures, unable to stop her fond smile at her sweet, stupid girlfriend. Honestly, how did Adora ever survive? She’s so terrible at hiding anything at all, and she never wants to hurt or disappoint. Glimmer swings her legs.

“And Adora only told me because she was not mentally there _at all_ today for our meeting so I forced it out of her. I honestly guessed it was because of other, better reasons from your day off, but … yeah. That was _not_ what I expected to hear.” Catra’s ears heat up and she glares for a second Glimmer, before breaking out into a laugh.

“I wish. I dressed for it and everything,” she purrs, winking. Glimmer rolls her eyes. She hops down from the desk and shrugs theatrically, as if to say ‘I tried’, before a gentle worry flows over her expression. She gives Catra a considering look.

“I thought we should take the time to check on you and Melog though. See if you two were having the same issues. And I’m guessing from the pile it’s not been great for you, either.” Catra glances over at her inbox, and shrugs. 

“It’s been better, Sparkles.” she admits, her voice dropping the humour from before. Glimmer crouches down to hold her arms out for Melog, and they mrrp happily before immediately pushing into her, purring deeply and rubbing against her. Perhaps they _had_ noticed the vague unease with the queen over the last few days.

 _I am doing reasonably well. I am trying not to focus too strongly on the memories and just remain in the moment._ Melog lets Glimmer know, and Catra’s heart clenches. They hadn’t even told _her_ that. And they were using the same sorts of terms she’d learned to deal with her own panic attacks. Catra relays the words, and Glimmer and Adora’s expression probably mirror her own, pained and tender. They all crowd the pleased alien to hug them. Eventually, Glimmer splits away first. 

“Right. If Melog's good with this, I’m going to tell Bow”, she says, getting up to borrow Catra’s communicator pad. Melog mrows affirmative.

“Isn’t he busy working on something.. sciency?” Adora, intellectual supreme, asks. “We can just tell him tonight.” Catra nods, crouching down on her rug and resting her cheek against Melog.

“Yeah, it’s bad enough Adora and I are distracted, at least you and him can get your jobs done or whatever.” she agrees, feeling like waiting for supper to spring this on the busy technomancer is the most reasonable option. Glimmer lets out a soft, annoyed sound, tapping out a code and waiting for Bow to connect.

“Nope. I’m distracted too, and if I am, Bow’s going to be. This is a best friend squad situation and frankly ninety percent of the work I have doesn’t really need the actual Queen at all and the other ten percent only needs me to make a final decision. Besides, he’d be pissed if we left him out.” Catra grins at the image of annoyed Arrow Boy, but doesn’t argue. His girlfriend is right, Bow would whinge for hours if they didn’t tell him about big, important emotional secrets. He would do that sad face of his. It would be disgusting. Better to get it all over with at once.

Glimmer smiles brightly at the tablet as Bow’s face appears. “Bow? Do you have a few minutes?”

* * *

  
  


“Awww man you _guys_! You should have told me,” Bow sob-talks as he snots against Melog’s neck, his face buried in their nebulous mane. They’ve moved to Glimmer’s chamber, since Catra’s office neither had the room for everyone nor was it exactly private. Of the group, Glimmer’s door would be the last one to be knocked on, short of an actual emergency. 

“Bow, I literally _did_ tell you!” Glimmer groans, but her expression is more fond than frustrated. “Like.. as soon as I could!” 

Unsurprisingly, Bow was profoundly moved by Melog’s story, though Melog wasn't in the room when he was told. Catra didn’t see any need to have the alien sit through it, not when they were trying not to linger in the memories. Instead, she moved Melog to the balcony to meditate with her while Adora did the job of revisiting the past. Meditation was a thing Catra and Melog often did as a pair, but until now it had been for Catra’s benefit, not Melog’s. Still, it seemed to work for alien, so when Glimmer came out to fetch them both, they were well grounded and ready for the emotions. Just as well, because Bow could not stop gushing at Catra and Melog about how bad he felt over what had happened, as if he had anything to do with an ancient wrong thousands of years in the past. As Bow cuddles Melog so tightly it would squish a smaller creature, the alien does their best to comfort him. Catra looks to Glimmer, rolling her eyes and nodding towards the mess of an archer with a sigh. 

“Good job, now we’re _all_ sad and distracted. Some of us way, _way_ more than others. Now what, glitter butt?” Catra asks her, arching an eyebrow before making a show of checking her claws.

“Well, we can’t just leave things like this. There’s got to be something we can do for them,” Glimmer replies, her face tightening with ire. Catra knows the ‘them’ isn’t just _this_ Melog. “I mean, are we _sure_ the First Ones are extinct, because I’m fine with fixing that if they’re not.” Her words are a nasty little growl at the end, and she clenches a fist, blinding sparks jumping off of it and sizzling in the air with raw magic. Catra grins. Her and Sparkles were too similar, sometimes, and it was great. 

“Sadly, I think Adora’s the last one, and you can’t kill my girlfriend. I called dibs, like, _years_ ago,” Catra drawls sardonically in return. Her tail brushes against Adora’s leg, but she doesn’t get the expected barb in reply. Catra turns to see that Adora’s distracted, which wasn’t shocking, and flipping through a book, which was a bit. Leaning closer, she tries to see what captured her girlfriend’s attention this time. “What’s that?”

Adora looks up, startled out of her reading. “Oh! Um, just one of the books we got from George and Lance. I have an idea.” Catra gestures for her to go on, but Adora sharply shakes her head. “No, give me a second. I don’t want to even say until I check.” Catra makes a sharp little noise of annoyance, but waits as Adora flips back and forth between pages. Glimmer looks over as well, curious, and even Bow pulls himself together, watching her from where he was clinging to Melog. Finally, after a few tense and silent minutes, Adora says, “Yes! I was right!”

Adora turns to show them an open page of graphs and tables, triumphant. She points out a few lines which mean nothing to Catra, and explains. 

“So, remember how I said I couldn’t find Melog in here? And you, Catra, said it was stupid to look for our Melog?” Catra’s ears flick forward and she can feel the fur prickle on her neck. 

“Sounds about right? Did.. you actually find our Melog in there?” she asks, her voice hollow with wonder at the idea. Adora gives her that confident smile that speaks of success, brilliant and perfect.

“Not exactly, but there’s definitely Melogs in here, I just didn’t recognise them. I noticed a weird phrase coming up over and over, but it wasn’t what we were looking for so I didn’t think to tell you guys.” Adora says, before pointing out the words, making sure to emphasize each one. “Magically Enhanced Lifeform, Optimal Grade.”

“A Melog!” Bow breathes, grinning. Even Melog themself looks surprised, though Catra isn’t sure if it’s because they’d never heard the phrase in full or that they’d forgotten it until now. Glimmer nods as well, but adds, “So, this means.. What for us, exactly? Or was that the entire idea?”

“No, no… these are export charts. Krytis was big on exporting things, even Melog told us that, and one of the things they sent off..”

“Was other Melogs!” Catra finishes for Adora, her eyes widening as she remembers Melog’s fear of being sent away on one of the many spaceships they unpacked. She sweeps Adora up in a hug. “Guess you’re not just a pretty face,” she says, tenderly. Adora smiles, pleased, and it’s only because she’s clearly excited about her discovery that she doesn’t comment on Catra’s choice of words, settling for a quick kiss instead. Bow continues to rub between Melog’s ear points, looking thoughtful. 

“So, what I think you’re suggesting is... “ he starts, and Catra stops him.

“Let her have this one, Arrow Boy. If she doesn’t say it herself I think she’s going to explode.” she notes, feeling Adora practically vibrate in her arms from her excitement. Adora anoints her with a second kiss as reward, before carrying on.

“What I’m saying is, that even if our Melog was the last Melog on Krytis, there’s no reason they’re the last Melog _ever_. They might still be out there!” Melog immediately stands when they hear that, their mane touched with pink. They move to press tightly against the hugging pair, purring deeply, moved beyond words. Catra smiles down as they circle her legs over and over, rumbling.

Glimmer helps Bow up from where he was sitting on the floor, stricken from being abandoned, and takes a moment to clean his face before giving him his own kiss. “So, are you working on anything important right now?” she asks him, and the royal engineer slash consort tilts his head.

“I mean, sort of? Nothing I can’t leave for a bit, though.” he says, his hand slipping down to give hers a squeeze. Glimmer nods, satisfied. 

“Good, because I think we’ve put off that best friend squad road trip long enough.” Bow squeaks with childlike delight and hugs her tightly as reply, and Adora joins in, trying and succeeding to drag Catra into the affectionate huddle. The warmth and emotion is overwhelming, and she feels her body tingle with excitement at the idea before practicality catches up to drop cold water over her enthusiasm. 

“You realise we haven’t gone yet because there’s too much work to leave, right?” Catra notes, bitterness tinging her words, leaning into Adora with a sharp flick of her tail. "I can't even leave my duties for a couple of days, how are we supposed to just fly off for months?"

“We’ll sort it out. If Adora and Bow were able to leave mid-war, I'm sure we can mid-peace. Besides, we can’t run everything personally forever.” Glimmer replies, her voice firm and certain. Catra longs to point out things had gone pretty badly when they left, but she can't fight the joy and enthusiasm bubbling up inside her at the idea. She looks down to Melog, and she can see that energy. Not reflected back, like a mirror, but a twin flame to her own. Zeal that had been forced to wait for so long, so needlessly. 

“So, how about it? Ready to go back to space to find your family?” Catra asks. Melog’s eyes open wide, and the purr nearly drowns out their reply meows. For once, Catra knew she wouldn’t have to translate their answer.


	12. Chapter 12

Leaving the planet was easier said than done. Because nothing went quickly in the Alliance.

* * *

“Oh this is so exciting! I’ve been wanting to upgrade Darla, and of course integrate the First Ones tech with the new intergalactic Horde tech ….” Catra’s ears flatten as Entrapta bounces around her, talking full volume. She waves away a clone offering her a tiny cup of tea. 

“Just.. just tell me if the ship can be ready for long distance travel, Entrapta. I don’t care how. I know it's a relic, but I don’t trust any of Prime’s old ships.” Catra says, trying to get Entrapta to focus on the specifics rather than all the details. Catra doesn’t need the details. Entrapta looks up from where she’s sorting through a pile of pieces.

“Oh! Well if you don’t care _how,_ there’s so many more experimental ideas than I…” she starts to say, and Catra restrains herself valiantly from groaning.

“Okay, don’t do anything that I would have asked you to do back in the Horde.” Catra tries to clarify, worried about where this might go. Entrapta tilts her head, her brows wrinkling together.

“Not.. anything? Well that doesn’t leave many options, Catra.” the engineering princess points out. Catra realises her mistake immediately and takes a breath.

“Please get the ship ready in a way that would be considered ethical and legal. While doing it quickly.” she says, slowly and clearly, hoping that can’t be misunderstood. It’s been a while since she’s had to use her giving orders to Entrapta skills. Entrapta shrugs.

“That shouldn’t be an issue, there aren’t really any laws about spaceships in Etheria. Ooooo, I already have the perfect idea! _EMILY!”_ Entrapta shouts, pinging around the room like a hyperactive spider. The large round bot trots out, beeping happily. She pauses to beep at Catra, and Catra gives her a nervous wave, before they both rush off. Right before she loses sight of Entrapta, though, Catra remembers the OTHER reason she was here.

“Wait, how’s that trade passage going? It needs to get done before the snow starts…” Catra yells after the vanishing princess.

“I’ll get to that later, don’t worry…..!” Entrapta’s voice echoes down the halls. Catra sighs, looking at one of the clones, who offers her a mirco-cupcake. She takes it. 

“Which one are you?” she asks them, and the clone stands up a bit straighter.

“I have been granted the name Rupert!” he says happily, and Catra nods. Seems about right. She eats the cupcake, which is delicious.

“Tell me, Rupert, do you think you guys could help me keep Entrapta on track here?” Rupert’s eye twitches, and he looks pained.

“I don’t believe that’s possible.” the clone admits. “Sister Entrapta has many different paths she takes.”

Catra sighs and reaches for a second cupcake. She thought as much.

“You could speak to Brother Hordak about it? He seems to understand her best…” Rupert offers with a helpful smile. Catra’s fur stands on end at the suggestion. Hordak was the last person she wanted to see.

That wasn’t to say she _hated_ him. Catra had even acted as part of his defense when the war trials happened. Of all the people there, only she had seen exactly what Hordak had come from. Only she had _felt_ it. In the end, though, so many Etherians had been under Horde Prime’s mind control that she barely needed to explain the specifics of Prime’s deepest torture. If they hadn’t been chipped themselves, they knew someone who had, and a good chunk of the jury was left rubbing their necks and looking pale after Catra’s impassioned speech.

It had been a relatively easy sell to commute his death to public service and monitoring. Would they have been so forgiving even a year before? Unlikely. But it was a different world. So much so, that the same allowance was extended to any clones wishing to make a peaceful life on Etheria. Entrapta gladly collected them all, filling her palace and Dryl with the diaspora. Her lands had never been so lively.

And after the trials, Catra and Hordak had mutually agreed that they never wanted to speak to each other again. Catra admits now that was probably a touch extreme. Maybe they’d want to in another year. Maybe ten. For now, though, the less they saw of each other, the better it was. It worked for them, regardless of what Perfuma thought.

“Absolutely not!” she says, firmly. She looks around for Melog, and spots them lounging over two clones and one of Entrapta’s old staff, basking in attention. A smile flickers across her face. There’s one being who could make friends wherever they go. Taking a few more sweets, she gestures for them to follow, before taking her leave through the labyrinthian palace. 

* * *

“We needed a vacation.” Glimmer says, pushing her sunglasses back on top of her hair. Catra’s eye twitches.

“You’re fucking _kidding_ me. We’re about to go off into space and we need the vacation _now?_ ” she growls, as Adora’s hand slowly rubs over the back of her neck, attempting to soothe. Her hair back there was long enough to cover her scar, but Adora still knows where to avoid. Bow smiles indulgently at them, adjusting the bag over his back. Melog pokes their head out, kitten sized at the moment, and yawns. 

“Space isn’t a vacation,” Glimmer counters, stretching and leaning into her beau. “Besides, it’ll just be for the day.” 

“At least we can teleport all the way there. The first visit I did we had to walk for two days and sleep in the rough,” Adora says, unfairly peppering one of Catra’s pinned ears with gentle kisses. “You can get your books and then we can have a spa day.” 

“Oh good, teleportation, my favourite thing,” Catra replies with a groan. Originally, Castaspella was supposed to come for a formal meeting, bring some information about First Ones’ magic, and maybe some books, and then Catra could have gone on with her life. Simple. Quick. But the head sorcerer of Mystacor insisted on inviting them, and everyone thought that was a fantastic idea. So now, they were having a vacation instead of a meeting. In Mystacor. As if they didn’t all have their plates full trying to get ready before leaving Etheria for stars only knew how long.

Catra scowls, and looks to Melog for support here. They had reminded her earlier that she can just say if she’s uncomfortable with visiting Mystacor. After all, the time they spent there briefly in the war had hardly been pleasant. But it wasn’t exactly that. It just made her fur itch. Taking time to do this was pointless. Typical Alliance nonsense. It felt too wasteful, too slow. She just wants everything to be done and off! 

Melog merely sticks out their tongue and returns to nesting in the towel bag. 

“Tough shit, kitten, we’re not walking,” Glimmer says cheerfully, and grabs Catra’s arm. Adora's grip slings around Catra’s neck and an instant later, they’re there. Her feet touch down on the grass so lightly it’s like they never left, but her body immediately screams at the wrongness. 

The magic up here feels oppressive and thick, like a blanket pressing tightly against her, threatening to smother. Even with the wind up high sending a cool breeze over the group, the magic hangs stagnant and old, immeasurably old. It speaks of dusty rooms never opened. At the edge of sensation is trickles and pops, bright and quick, which is probably people using the heady collection of ancient power. And of course around them, an invisible dome traps it all inside. 

Melog’s head pops back out, and they glance over at her, shaking their tiny mane.

 _Do we need to speak to your friends?_ They ask her, feeling her discomfort even from there. Catra sharply shakes her head, untangling herself from Adora with a scowl at her girlfriend that was an overture of fondness. She goes over to hold her arms out for Melog, letting them leap to her and pressing her cheek to theirs.

“No. It’s just the magic. It’s…” Catra can’t explain herself, and makes a face. She wonders how the others, especially Glimmer, don’t feel the radical difference place to place, but it seems to be an instinct only she’s developed in the months after the war. Melog, though, makes a small sound of sympathy.

 _It feels heavy. Unlike home._ They look around, and their soft, nebulous tail ghosts over her arm. _It does not feel vigorous._ They settle on, and Catra agrees. The kingdom feels like the magical equivalent of an ancient library, and as lively as that implies. She sets them down, and they glisten and grow to their larger size, stretching their forelimbs out, feline like, on the ground. 

“Glimmer!” Castaspella approaches the group, giving her niece a tight and eager hug, before fussing over her clothes and hair and weight and height. Catra has made sure to have a knit scarf around her neck, and Bow and Adora eagerly talk about socks they’ve been given by the serene and talented magical leader of Mystacor. The alternate is just not worth the trouble. 

Catra can’t say she enjoys hanging around Castaspella. She’s passive aggressive and bitchy and tightly wound and bossy. But at the same time, she is effusive with her care, excessive even, and that’s not the worst thing in the world to deal with after vicious generals and icy politicians. Catra had to firmly tell her a few times that there was never going to be a pair of socks on the planet she’d wear before the leader stopped sending her sets to match Adora’s. That’s far better than other political impasses she deals with. Melog still receives knit booties for each of their paws, though.

“Oh, it’s so wonderful that so many of Glimmer’s friends take an interest in our magical history!” Castapella says, leading Catra away from the group with a firm hand the second the greetings are done. Catra glares at Glimmer, positive the queen made sure to steer her aunt quickly to what was, theoretically, the main reason for the visit. Her suspicion is realised when Glimmer grabs Adora and Bow and quickly says “We’ll be waiting in the baths for you two to finish!” before blinking away. Traitor.

Catra puts on her best ‘dealing with diplomats’ expression as the sorceress rambles on about the various aspects of how Mystacor was built on First Ones ruins, as well as many pointless asides. Melog presses to her side, remaining silent and attentive. Whatever was built here by the First Ones, it's never bothered them. The endless halls are more Etherian than ancient, and what hints there are don’t appear to trigger the alien. Catra is able to keep at least one ear on the conversation and a polite smile on her face until they stop in front of a marred, dark statue.

“Sadly we have to keep this one here as a terrible example and warning, but after the copious amounts of crimes Light Spinner, or shall we say Shadow Weaver was involved in, I’m petitioning to have this horrible thing removed entirely.” Castaspella says, looking towards Catra with an expectant smile, hungry for her reply. Catra feels the colour draining from under her fur and she just gives a non-committal, nervous laugh. Castaspella seems to think that dropping catty comments about Shadow Weaver helps endear her to Catra. Instead, it always fills Catra with an uncomfortable maelstrom of conflicting feelings towards her former caregiver. 

“That’s...really up to you guys. I’m here for the books, not _her_.” Catra says, her voice stiff. Castaspella’s expression melts into almost theatrical sympathy, and the woman hugs her. 

“Of course, you poor darling! Honestly, I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to talk about such a vicious and cruel woman. Why, if you knew what she did with Micah.” Catra stiffens, and she freezes until she’s let go of, before brushing off her clothes. 

“Sure,” she says, blankly. Micah, at least, has the sense to barely talk about the woman unless Catra brings it up first. Melog grumbles under their breath, pressing into her, and she sighs. Sometimes, sympathy can be worse than indifference. 

“Can we please get to business?” Catra says, straightening up. She’s the royal advisor, she does not need to put up with this! Castaspella’s look fluctuates between mild affront and soppy sympathy, but she nods, taking them into the archives, though not without making sure to describe every mural, frieze and mosaic along the way.

Of course she did. Catra sighs softly. Why should anything be done efficiently on this planet?

* * *

It was a hard habit not to smooth her mane down when she’s stressed and trying to contain herself, but Catra fights back that urge. The communication channel keeps buzzing, and she’s about to give up, but it’s finally answered. Unfortunately for her stress, it wasn’t Entrapta on the other end, but one of the clones. 

“Brother! How good to see you!” Catra smiles. This one, she doesn’t need to introduce themself. He regularly changes the name he wishes to use, but currently he’s back to…

“Wrong Hordak, hey. It’s good to see you as well.” She feels the tension slipping out from her, her hair flattening down from its prickly wildness. The clone they’d rescued? stolen? from Prime was weird, but so earnest that Catra couldn’t help but like him. She’d even enjoyed his presence on Darla. He’d become more effusively expressive and strange, but his eccentricities only endeared him to nearly all he met. “Is Entrapta free to talk? I need some updates from her and she’s not answering her mail.”

Wrong Hordak claps his hands together and beams. “Brother Entrapta has been very busy on several projects, but I shall see if she can talk to you right now!” He winks, a habit they hadn’t broken him of, and goes off, carrying the communicator pad with him carelessly. Flashes of the halls of Dryl swing by on the screen, robots and clones and the few humans in the castle, and Wrong Hordak waves to every single one, with varying levels of returned enthusiasm. Finally, he slips into some side passage and a messy lab is visible.

“Brother! Brother Catra wishes to speak to you!” he calls out, waving the tablet around in a way that makes the scene lurch and forces Catra to look away. She sighs, willing her tail to still. 

It wasn’t Entrapta’s fault she was stressed. Well, it was, but no more than usual when dealing with the tech princess. She’s not entirely sure Entrapta can read even her obvious annoyed tells, but she still doesn’t want to broadcast them. They were really more for the waste of time the rest of her week had been. Because, apparently, anything to do with First Ones’ magic was barred from outsiders of Mystacor, and most of the people in the Kingdom as well. A fact that could have been covered over a video call in five minutes, instead of an entire trip. A video call like this one, in fact.

When Catra feels her control return and she looks back, the screen is filled with Entrapta’s welding mask, buglike and expressionless.

“Catra! Are you calling about the blueprints I sent you, because I’ve already sent an update!” Entrapta chirps, muffled by the metal. Catra’s tail flicks sharply, out of view.

“Yes, you keep sending me stuff, but you haven’t been telling me a timeline. I get you have all these ideas, but we need to lift off sometime.” Catra says, keeping her voice as steady as she can. Entrapta squeaks, spinning on the spot.

“Oh! For liftoff, I have the perfect idea for accessing multilayer power draws to…” she starts, and Catra grimaces before cutting her off. 

“I need to know how long this is going to take, Entrapta, and it’s just going to take longer if you keep adding to the project. In theory, If you didn’t make any more changes, how soon would we be able to leave?” Entrapta makes a strangled noise, as if the concept of not improving things is physically painful for her. It might well be.

“Probably no more than 16 days, give or take a few hours. But there’s so much still to add! You’ll love the arboretum, it’s so useful and…” 

“Just… try to stick to necessities. _Please._ ” Catra says, cutting her off, forcing her claws to stay neat and proper. It wasn’t the woman’s fault, she’s just like that, and Catra knows, but it’s so so hard when she just wants things to be finished. 

“Oh, don’t worry, everything I add is necessary! But I need to get going, I have to keep an eye on this test exchange or the feedback loop could cause irreparable damage and possibly burn through this lab and 20 meters of bedrock! Multilayer power is turning out to be a little tricky to figure out...”

“What??” Catra squeaks, her ears splaying out and her tail frizzling. Entrapta turns as something behind her starts to glow green, reflecting eerily on her protective mask.

“Whoops, better stop that! Bye!” she says, just as cheerful as before. The call cuts off abruptly, leaving Catra staring at herself mirrored in the black surface, looking as frazzled as she feels. She takes a deep breath, and reminds herself that Entrapta is probably fine and calling back right now would only invite disaster. It takes a full ten minutes later before she slaps her forehead, groaning.

“Fuck! I wanted to ask her about that damn trade route!”

* * *

Melog presses tightly against Catra’s leg, and she can feel the low growl suffusing through them. It was only a matter of time before something snapped, something went too far, and the claws came out. Catra knew this, but she felt powerless to stop it.

“You idiots need to sort your shit out without all this posturing! Fuck!” she snarls, her growing mane fluffed out, her tail up, claws grating across the ancient table in the meeting room they still called the war room. Everyone’s heads snap to her.

 _We should leave. You are upset._ Melog growls, arched protectively beside her, their mane a powerful red maelstrom. And Catra was upset, furious that the only thing she could be sure to be able to help her friend with was being held up by meeting after meeting, every one a clear and blatant delay. 

The diplomats, who had been genteelly arguing over her and each other, are now even more pale under their fleshy, pallid complexions. Catra had long ago come to the conclusion politicians are grown in damp inner rooms, like fungi, and she’s met very few who can shake that image from her mind. Spineless and weak, happy to let their people fight but eager to claim all the power afterwards. She pulls her lips back, showing her fangs. The tallest of them shakes off his shock at her aggression first.

“I am well aware that your militant past might make this difficult to understand, _Former General Catra_ ,” Nazghal the fourth, a rather slimy man with a white beard and an overly dignified bearing. “But there are procedures to be followed. Official channels to manage…” His eyes flick to Glimmer, but she’s merely watching the proceedings. Melog growls, low and sharp. 

“Bullshit. You keep finding different ways to say why we can’t leave, why She-Ra can’t leave, but guess what? None of you jackasses have any control over that.” Catra hisses. Her eyes narrow at the man, who glares down his nose at her.

“Queen Glimmer! This is outrageous,” the smaller, fatter man sputters out. Baron Condore was ruddy and stunk of sweat, something she’s sure even lesser noses notice. “Keep your feral animal at bay or you’ll be seeing sanctions.” There’s soft murmurs from the other ambassadors and dignitaries around the table. 

Glimmer smiles, slowly and serenely, and Catra can feel herself calming down, her hand dropping to Melog who gives her a quick look before letting their mane still. The Baron and Nazghal both flash her triumphant smirks, unaware of what they had just unleashed. 

“First Advisor Catra brings up a valuable point, sirs. You all seem very invested in red tape and procedures but, in fact, Adora is a subject of Bright Moon, and not Dragonvale or Sand Valley. She has very generously offered her aid when needed but I think you are under the mistaken impression that you can make orders instead of requests. That you can order my subject and my friend. And that you can insult my chosen First Advisor. I’m curious, exactly, why you think that is?” Glimmer says, her eyes lazy and her posture downright casual, but the way the words are laid before the room, as sharp and precise as soldiers on display, makes clear she’s anything but taking this lightly. Catra has to bite back a grin. Idiots, for thinking politics aren’t just another form of war. Glimmer was the Battle Queen of Bright Moon, and these old men aren’t ready for the sort of fight she can bring.

“She-Ra belongs to Etheria,” Baron Condore blusters out, and Gimmer’s eyes snap to Catra’s. No, they say, and Catra forces herself to wait, to see what trap her friend is laying. The queen’s expression is even more beatific when it returns to the ruddy jowled slab of a man. 

“What an odd thing to say, ambassador, because if you asked Adora I’m pretty certain she’d tell you she’s Catra’s. Quite explicitly.” Catra snorts out a laugh, as do a few other of the sundry dignitaries. The Baron harumphs, a sound Catra never knew actually existed outside of novels, growing even more unpleasantly crimson. 

“Adora has indeed been very generous, and I find it odd she is not here to speak for herself,” Nazghal drawls, and Catra offers him half a point for that. Shame he's busy playing political games with someone who's had to keep seven of them running at all times. Tail swaying, she leans forward, fixing him with a slow, smug smile.

“Adora is too generous to be here, busy helping with people who, you know, asked her nicely. But don’t worry, since you do so love your forms, I have the documents here she’s signed saying I can speak on her behalf. I’d hate for you to think I didn’t know _procedures_.” She pushes them into the center of the table, before lowering her voice to a growl.

“She’s too nice to say no to you fuckers, but I’m certainly not. So get used to figuring out how to handle your problems the old fashioned way. Might I suggest practicing playing nice with the rest of the princesses if you want your winter fruit and ice-free shipping lanes? Or, here’s a thought, try being better at your jobs without having a big shining goddess to hide behind? Just an informal suggestion. You have ages to figure that out, because she is _going_.”

Glimmer stands with a bright clap of her hands, her velvety voice hiding steel.

“Wonderful! And since that’s settled, I hope you all have a nice trip home. Feel free to leave.”

* * *

The scratching sound of pen on paper was strangely relaxing to listen to, especially combined with a crackling wood fire. Catra lazes on the floor with her back to the warmth. In theory, she was going through books with Adora, but in practice, she’d stopped a while back to just watch. Adora was deep in concentration, her brows tight together, her back bowed over the low table she was working at. Reaching for a ruler, she draws a slow, careful line, the very tip of her tongue sticking out. It was a perfect view.

“You know, you could do all that with computers,” Catra purrs, her tail slowly swaying. Adora has a smear of ink on her thumb. It’s enchanting. 

“Mmm. Not as satisfying. Plus, it doesn’t feel right.” Adora says, not looking up from her work. Various old tomes and star charts are scattered around the table, dripping out onto the floor. 

“You’re going to have to input this all into a computer _anyway._ Darla can’t follow drawn instructions. ” Catra points out, without much urgency. Everything about their trip has taken so long, but she doesn’t really want Adora to hurry. A computer absolutely wouldn’t be the same as this gentle, personal moment. Adora pauses, flexing out her wrist and carefully cleaning her pen-nib with a rag. 

“Ye-ah, but this lets me feel where everything’s going to be. In space.” she tells Catra, before tugging her ponytail tighter and getting back to work. 

Catra doesn’t have a good answer to that, so she makes an attempt to look over her book. She can read more of the First Ones’ language now, especially the parts that are specific to what they need, but she’s really just skimming for more star charts that have Krytis on them. The library’s collection wasn’t quite so daunting when you knew what to look for, she just kept getting distracted. 

Catra looks up as the doors to their left open with a quiet click. Lance comes out, carrying a plate of something freshly baked, Melog on his heels. Catra quickly gestures a finger to her lips, and he repeats it, winking and staying silent as he brings the food. The exuberant man did seem to understand the importance of silence and focus for research, at least. Setting the plate down beside Catra, he brushes a hand over her slowly-growing hair with gentle affection. 

“Do you two need any more books?” he asks, his tone as hushed as he could make it. Catra flicks her ear. She waits for Adora to answer, but her girlfriend is lost in her own world, marking out a tight circle and labeling it. Her Etherian is tight and precise, but her First Ones’ script flows. It was fascinating to see the difference.

“Not right now,” Catra replies for them both. “We’re not going to be able to do all of space, so we’re just trying to stick to a strong route to start.” Lance nods, and joins her on the floor with a grunt, sitting crossed legged, his hand moving to stroke Melog when the alien lounges beside him. Catra watches as Adora mindlessly reaches for the snacks, eating one without looking up. Her fond purr deepens, echoed by Melog.

Setting her book aside, Catra reaches for her own snack. Behind her, a log shifts and pops. Adora lifts a scroll to compare it to her map, and flashes a private, satisfied smile. It would have been a lot faster to just use a computer. Catra feels no rush at all.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Catra barely recognizes Darla now. The ship is easily triple the size of before, the tight wedge now the front head of a larger vehicle. Entrapta has brought them to her personal shipyard, full of the broken parts of many of the Horde ships that fell from the sky during the war. Several are rebuilt with what can only be called Entrapta’s personal flair, but Darla stands out like a dark jewel among the pale bones and bodies of the other ships. Catra slowly runs a hand over the faintly warm metal hull. Entrapta has been sending her literally dozens of messages a day, and she's sure this design was in one of them, but Catra gave up keeping up with all the updates weeks ago.

“She’s gorgeous,” Catra breathes, her eyes tracing the fine lines over the spaceship’s body. Melog’s purr is a deep rumble, and they’re bouncing around like a happy kitten. She can’t blame them, she’s equally excited to finally get going. Catra wasn’t sure what to expect when she planned this surprise visit. Darla in pieces? Entrapta on a completely different project? But when she was led to the tech princess by one of the clones (Samantha), the results were better than she could have ever hoped for. Entrapta pats the ship affectionately.

“Isn’t she?! The surface is completely self-healing, which makes it perfect for dealing with the micro-asteroids that litter the void of space and could puncture the hull, killing everyone on board in a matter of minutes! This technology is going to be so crucial in building my next robots!” Entrapta tells her proudly. Catra’s ear twitches.

“Wait, that could have happened before?” she asks, and Entrapta shrugs. 

“It did, several times, but that’s why I was always fixing the hull. Now I don’t need to worry about you all dying in your sleep! It’s much better.” She strokes over the ship, and Catra’s tail flicks.

“Thanks. I … thanks,” she settles on saying in response, deciding it wasn’t good to focus on how close to death they’d all been. Melog chases after a spare wrench as Entrapta drops it, swinging down to enter the ship.

“Come on, I have SO many features to show you!” the woman calls out, and Catra dutifully follows up into the ramp. The former storage bay is still the same, but with a corridor out the back to the rest of the now expanded ship. 

“It’s been so helpful, having expanded Horde technology to compare against this unmodified First Ones tech. The leaps and bounds of advancement we can bring to Etheria with it is unimaginable!” Entrapta says, her eyes sparkling with excitement from the possibilities. She taps out a code on the wall, and a small cube pops out. Catra leans forward, squinting.

“What is that, some sort of…” she sniffs. “Building material?” she guesses, blindly. Entrapta pulls out a small pipette from somewhere, and drops some water onto the little thing. With a soft pop and a wave of warmth, it changes.

“Extra tiny food…” Entrapta breathes, enraptured at the little cupcake in her hand. “Perfect for long distance travel! The way the First Ones use the natural transient energies to manipulate organic matter is astounding!” Catra sniffs again, and except for smelling slightly artificial, like a ration bar, the little food seems perfectly edible. She takes the offered micro-dessert and pops it in her mouth. It’s good, somehow.

“I really need to find out how they did that,, “ Catra says, swallowing. “But no one who knows is willing to tell me. Forbidden knowledge, “ she drawls, sarcastically. Entrapta snorts.

“That’s stupid, there’s no such thing as bad knowledge.” she counters. Catra is hardly going to look to the scientist to calibrate a moral compass. Still, she nods in agreement. It was really more about the use, than the knowledge. She can’t blame Mystacor for the reluctance, but how is anyone supposed to repair the damage from bad magic if you aren’t even allowed to know how it works? Catra finds her mind wandering back to Melog, and their plight. She looks out down the ramp, where the alien is still playing with tools, a helpful clone tossing them some in amusement. 

“C’mon,” Entrapta crows, and Catra is suddenly being pushed along by an animate hank of hair, inexorably moving back to the end of the ship. “I’m not 100 percent satisfied with everything, but I’ll have plenty of time to fix it when we’re in space.” Catra stiffens.

“Wait.. in space? Entrapta, you aren’t going to be joining us.” she corrects, and Entrapta snorts.

“Of course I am! You can’t expect me to sit out voyaging in space! The exploration! The knowledge! It’s incredible!” Catra tries to dig her claws into the smooth floor, but she’s pulled along through the new expanded ship behind the bouncing princess.

“You have shit you have to do here, Entrapta! What about all the clones?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine. They’re very integrated into castle life, and the robots love them. Oh, and the staff, I suppose.”

“What about Hordak!?”

“He doesn’t even want to come, he says he’s not supposed to leave the planet for some reason.”

Catra chokes.

“The.. the war crime trials,” she reminds her in a strangled tone. “And the evil empire. People didn't want him to start another intergalactic one?” Entrapta shrugs, as if official legal settlements was hardly a reason to avoid space. Catra would normally agree but Catra did not want to be stuck in a tin can in space with her former boss. Or a princess she'd never agreed to.

“Entrapta, listen, I appreciate all you’ve done to get Darla ready, but you can’t just fuck off to space for a half year. You can’t even get the stuff your kingdom needs done DONE. Like the trade tunnel to the Kingdom of Snows." Catra says, firmly. Entrapta laughs at that, bright and sharp and manic.

“Oh that was done weeks ago! You need to keep up with your messages.” she says, cheerfully, giving Catra a look of bemused pity. Catra feels her fur stand on end, and weeks of frustration boil over in a strangled yell. 

“WHAT?!”

* * *

Everything takes forever to get done in the Alliance, so it feels unreal when there was nothing left to stop them from leaving. No last minute meetings, no sudden influx of former Horde soldiers finally giving up on the bandit life out past the wastes, no crisis demanding She-Ra or Glimmer or even _Catra._

Instead of having to hide from her work, she’s actually free to do as she wishes, so right now, Catra is lounging by the garden’s fountain, petting a drowsy Melog.

“You excited?” she asks the alien, and they yawn, their purr rumbling through her hand.

 _Yes, but also a little scared. What if there are no more of my people? I do not wish to find that out, and … it makes me reluctant to go. Perhaps it would hurt less if I did not know?_ Melog murmurs, their tail flipping over her lap like a cool cloud. Catra can’t help but smile. She still wonders how much of Melog’s emotional self has been picked up from her. Without the capacity to see what the First Ones did to them, she may never know. But even if they hadn’t learned this from her, she can see the danger of this line of thought. 

“It’ll be easier, sure,” Catra admits, teasing over their tail, letting her claws trail through the mist. “But it won’t be satisfying.” Melog rrrrrps, but does not argue. 

_You are also nervous._ Melog informs her, and she laughs under her breath.

“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” she says, softly, her fingers slowing. 

“Hey, Wildcat!” Catra’s head jerks up and she can’t stop the smile from her flowing across her face. Scorpia waves excitedly, as if Catra couldn’t see the tall woman from across the garden, Perfuma clinging to her other arm. Seeing Scorpia in dresses never fails to surprise Catra in a good way, and this time is no different, the powerful woman wearing something light and floaty in yellow with little flowers over the fabric. Almost certainly chosen by Perfuma, who’s wearing something complementary in a minty green. 

“Hey. You two are early.” she says, getting up. “I’m not even changed for the party.” She gestures to her work clothes. Melog immediately perks up as well, bounding over for their usual hug from the scorponi. Scorpia obliges, swinging Melog up into her arms as if they’re a big kitten instead of a lion-sized creature. Perfuma gives the pair an indulgent smile before going to offer Catra a hug of her own, which the feline complies with, her ears tucking back.

“Are you excited for your trip?” the flower princess asks, mirroring what Catra had asked Melog. Her tail flicks and she looks aside, brushing stray hairs back. 

“A bit.” Perfuma gives her a soft look, gently releasing her and clasping her hands in front of her.

“Worried about returning to space, given what happened?” the princess asks, and Catra quickly shakes her head. A quick, sharp laugh barks out of her.

“No! Fuck no, that part is exciting. Adora and I .. I mean, we always wanted to see the world, just the two of us, and I get the space trip isn’t exactly that, but it’s… it’s what I always wanted. Really. To just see more.” She rubs the back of her neck. “Horde Prime didn’t ruin the idea of it any more than being in the Horde ruined the idea of seeing the rest of Etheria.” Perfuma nods, her eyes crinkling with the broadness of her smile. 

“That’s wonderful.” she breathes out, and Catra turns away again, now embarrassed at her own excited grin. Too open, too warm. She sighs, bringing up the worry she’s had since they came up with this plan.

“I’m scared we’ll get out there and I won’t be able to actually make any difference for Melog,” Catra admits, her voice low. “I still don’t even know what the First Ones did to them, and even if we find their people, I don’t know if we can fix… ANYTHING.” Catra fights down the anger and fear in her voice, dragging her fingers roughly through her shaggy hair. 

Perfuma nods, and looks back to lock eyes with Scorpia, the powerful woman coming up to them both, Melog still chrrring in her arms like a pleased cub. She looks between the pair and sets the alien down. Catra stiffens for a moment, expecting to be swept up in bone crushing hug, but Scorpia places a tender claw on Perfuma’s shoulder instead. Perfuma gives her fiancee a gentle nod, before looking back to Catra.

“We do have a few hours before the party,” Perfuma notes, and Catra snorts out a laugh. 

“You came early on purpose,” she accuses, and Perfuma merely looks prim, but Scorpia nods eagerly. 

“Oh yeah, Perfuma really pushed hard to get here, just in case you needed some meditation time!” the guileless woman confirms, and Catra gives into her instinct to hug the pair. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles into Scorpia’s carapace, before quickly letting go. Perfuma sits down among one of the flowerbeds, spreading her skirt neatly and looking up. Catra realises she’ll miss this. Her new friends, the palace, the people she’s come to know. Even knowing they’ll come back soon, it wouldn’t be the same. For the longest time, the only thing she’d ever missed was Adora. Having things to care about enough to miss was disorienting and strange. She presses back a tear as Scorpia slings a heavy arm around her shoulders and Melog leans into her leg. Perfuma smiles her soft, generous smile.

“So, would you like to talk about it?” she asks.

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so very long, I'm over a week and a half late. I wanted to do something different in this chapter and I struggled to have it come out well, finally doing another rewrite today that used half of the material from before, but rearranged for better flow, and some new stuff. And I had a nice multi-day migraine last week.
> 
> I'm still not thrilled at every part of this, but I've fiddled over this enough and just want it out!
> 
> I'm very grateful to you all for your support so far on this work!


	13. Chapter 13

In the end, the Best Friend Squad trip ended up resembling their initial foray into space more than Catra would have liked. 

“Entrapta! Why did you bring along clones?!” Catra hisses, finally cornering the bouncing princess two days out. “I thought they were staying back in Dryl?” Entrapta blinks owlishly at her, and then laughs. 

“Ooooh, no, I mean, most are staying back in Dryl but Kadroh, Abigail and Rupert wanted to join us! Is that a problem?” she asks, perching on her hair. Entrapta had in fact ended up joining them as well. In spite of Catra’s initial concerns; it really was better to have her with them in space, even if it made the atmosphere a little more chaotic. But at no point did any of the plans include former Horde clones. Melog was no help there, delighted to hang around with Wrong Hordak, or Kadroh currently. Catra takes a deep breath. 

“Entrapta, we’re going into former Horde colonies. They might try to kill the clones.” Catra tries to explain. Entrapta frowns, shifting in the hanging nest of her twin tails. 

“Why would they want to do that?” she asks. Catra forces her tail not to twitch.

“They look like their former oppressors, Entrapta. Depending on the planet, they might shoot first and ask questions later.” Catra reminds her, and Entrapta’s eyes light up with understanding.

It took Catra months to get over the fact the clones, baring Kadroh, looked so much like… well,  _ the clones.  _ The ones who held her down and forced the breathing tube in her throat, the ones that watched impassively as she was shocked to near death before her crude surgery. Honestly, the main thing that helped her, right now, was the fact most of them were fascinated by personal expression, and none of them remained looking like clones for long. While Kadroh had the most unique way of speaking, light and friendly and enthusiastic, even the most monotone of the refugee clones picked out a different outfit for themselves when they started integrating into Etheria. 

Hordak, really, started the trend. Dying his hair (Catra has to laugh at that, because in all the time she worked under him she never knew his hair wasn’t blue), lining his eyes with kohl, his tendency to wear his own colours instead of Horde White. Catra suspects he’s encouraging his brothers to follow his example. Even before a clone choses a personal name, they start looking more individualistic. More, for lack of a better term, alive. 

Kadroh naturally took to new clothes. He kept his apron from their original voyage with pride and often wore it to fancy events. His selection of outfits were eclectic, tending towards knit goods, bright colours and haphazard mixing and matching. He was the only clone who brought an actual  _ suitcase _ full of different clothes with him on the ship, and the last Catra had seen him, he was wearing a long rainbow scarf, a bright green crop top, violet loose trousers with glitter (thanks, Glimmer) and three belts. At one point, he’d dyed his hair purple, but it had grown and washed out until right now the colour stained just the tips of his locks. He’d chosen the shade to match Entrapta, which was sweet. 

Abigail had decided that she was better suited to a feminine name and gender, though unlike some of the other clones who took that route, she doesn’t look like a resident of Plumeria, all flowing dresses and flowers. Instead, her hair is spiked and dyed dark red, and she seems to have taken style cues from a mixture of Huntara and, to Catra’s eternal embarrassment, Catra herself. Tight black slacks that are slashed over the thighs, a snug shirt in deep maroon, and a black jacket studded with spikes. Carefully painted across the back are the words ‘No Lords No Masters’ around a stylized tree. Her hard look makes her shy nature all the more incongruous to everyone but Catra. Catra knows only too well how people build up a look to protect themselves. 

Rupert was the most restrained of the three clones, clothing and personality wise. He reminded Catra most of Adora, in that he maintained the white clothes of his Horde life, sans symbols, and merely accented them with hints of personality. He’d taken to wearing  cummerbunds and bowties in deep magenta, and that might have made him look too fastidious if he didn’t also have his hair dyed to match them. He often hovers by Catra or one of the others, looking to make himself useful, which was cute but also a little sad. The squad agreed that at some point they had to teach him about the wonders of ‘goofing off’. 

Every one of them was their own person, unique and special, but Catra knows they’ll be seen as just clones out of the gentle creche of Dryl. Reintegrating the Horde and the Alliance in peacetimes was, and remains, a struggle, but Etherians can’t actually tell by  _ looking  _ who was in one or the other. Once the uniforms were off, everyone was equal. But Catra knows things are much more cutthroat when you can’t hide your allegiance. She knows what happens when you wear your past on your skin. 

Entrapta considers the problem, and shrugs. “I guess they’ll have to stay on Darla with me if that’s an issue, but we won’t know until we get out there.” she says reasonably, with a bright smile. “Besides, they  _ really  _ wanted to come, like Emily did.” Catra winces. Right, Emily. Apparently the  _ robot _ was getting her new self-healing skin upgrade on the go in space. At this rate, the entire trip was threatening to turn into Entrapta’s personal project rather than an exploration and rescue mission. Still, they were up there now, and Catra got outvoted on dropping them all back off on Etheria, so she was stuck with them. At least Swift Wind didn’t like space ships. Catra supposes she can tolerate all these idiots on board for a few months. 

Melog slinks up, purring.  _ You seem happy. I too am glad so many friends have joined us.  _ Catra goes bright red, grateful Entrapta can’t understand the alien's embarrassing truth.

“Shut up!”

  
  


* * *

Adora spread her charts and maps over the floor of the bridge, circling them around the captain’s chair like a ring. Scooting along the outside, she gestures along the series of lines placed on her work. 

“Now, I still need to get all of these into Darla,” she says, and Catra pointedly clears her throat, earning her a glare from her girlfriend. “But here’s our plan. Melog’s people were sent all over the old First Ones’ empire, but there’s definitely a few places that seemed to get more of them. Even with Entrapta’s upgrades, it could take years to hit them all, but luckily, a few of these key export destinations are pretty near Etheria. We’re going to focus on them, and maybe some planets nearby, and go from there.” Her toe swings along a particular arc. “The whole circle will take a couple months in travel time, and we’ll be hitting Krytis before we head home. Entrapta?”

Entrapa leans forward and smiles. “Our last visit was very brief, but this time I 'm able to prepare! I plan on accessing the Horde databases on the planet and maybe even some old First Ones ones as well. Since I don't have my full labs up here, I’ll be scraping and dumping everything onto Darla so we end up with more complete records to take back.” Everyone nods along at that. Working from ancient books on Etheria was one thing, but the First Ones were more advanced than that: most of their records were almost certainly digital. 

Melog leans into Catra, and she strokes along their head, slowly. They’d consulted the alien on their plans, especially visiting Melog’s old home, and they’d approved every part, but Catra wonders if Melog feels different now that they’re actually in space. 

Bow crouches down to examine a map. “It’s so weird, thinking how far away all these places are. Krytis looks like it should be right beside Etheria.” he says, tracing the short distance between the two marked globes on the paper. Adora and Entrapta both snort, but Adora’s the one who answers.

“That’s because that’s just a two dimensional map, Bow. Darla, bring up the Krytis route…” she says, and the holographic display flickers to life before them. It resembles the map on the floor almost exactly, but then Adora makes a quick sweep with her hand, and the map swings around, showing Etheria so far behind Krytis, it almost falls off the edge of the display space. “And that’s why it’s taking me a while to get these all into Darla,  _ Catra _ …” Catra grins, flicking the back of one of Adora’s thighs with her tail.

“Whaaaaat? I never said anything.” she says, innocently, and Melog smirks with her. Glimmer flexes her fingers with a crack, and looks over the charts. 

“We’re also going to be using this to see if we can try to bring back magic to the worlds we visit. All of the worlds we’re visiting had some mention of magic as well as Melogs, so we don’t waste our time.” she notes, and Catra’s ears perk. This part of the planning wasn’t something she’d been privy to, preferring to focus her own work on Melog and their needs. She crosses her arms.

“Makes sense. Don’t want Adora freaking out if she can’t do anything only to find out they never had any magic in the first place. Speaking of, do we have a plan for that? I don’t think we can expect a massive lock in every world.” At that, Adora looks worried, but Glimmer shrugs.

“We won’t know until we get there.” She reaches out to pat Adora’s shoulder, giving her a concerned look, and adds, “That’s why it’s Melogs first, magic second. It’ll be NICE if we can stumble on how to do it, but no pressure. Right, Adora?” Adora gives a tight nod, and Catra suspects this is a conversation Glimmer and her have had several times already. Bow stands back up, and pulls out his own pad. 

“Entrapta and I are going to be focusing on picking up as many communication signals as we can, and developing some translation software. We got lucky before, but her and I don’t imagine every world speaks a language that’s mutually intelligible with Etherian.” Entrapta bounces on her hair, nodding. “Even on Etheria there’s over a dozen native languages and forty seven recorded dialects. If we assume Etherian is related to the galactic language the Horde and First Ones used, it makes sense that we’d understand a lot of it, but…”

“But if someone came to Etheria and talked to selkies first, for example, they wouldn’t understand it.” Bow finishes. Catra smiles, impressed. 

“Is it really that easy to just.. Understand other languages?” she asks, and Entrapa shrugs, spinning in place. 

“It’s basically just cryptography. It’s not that hard, really. With enough baseline date, we should even be able to make it work for Melog!” At that, Melog’s earspikes flick forward, and they trill. Catra feels a sharp pain in her stomach, but she pushes it down. Now was not the time to be possessive of Melog and her bond. Instead, she taps their nose.

“You up to letting Entrapta and Bow quiz you?” she asks the alien, and their eyes sparkle with enthusiasm. 

_ Yes! I would love to be able to talk to all my friends, not just you. I appreciate your constant kindness with translating, but it would be nice to no longer rely on it. It is strange, really, that only you understand me. I had no such difficulty on Krytis.  _

Catra agrees, but she admits she hadn’t been eager to fix that problem. The least she can do is not stand in the way of a solution now. She explains to Bow and Entrapta, and they look equally excited. Bow taps his pad and grins, before leaning over to give Glimmer a surprise kiss on the cheek, startling the queen out of her thoughts.

“If Glimmer doesn’t need me for anything, then maybe we could get started on that right now?” he suggests to the alien. Entrapta claps her hands and nods. 

“Oooo! I already suggested some words for Bow to use, but I’d love to be present!” she says. Melog practically glows at the attention, purring richly in their slightly echoing way. Glimmer is still cupping her cheek, a hint of pink colouring her expression. She suddenly realises everyone is looking to her, and quickly straightens up.

“Huh? Oh, no, we’re good until supper, I think.” she says, and she’s hugged and gifted a second excited kiss, now on the lips. Bow plants a third on her forehead before letting the stunned woman go, racing off with Entrapta, Melog in tow. Adora glances at Catra, raising an eyebrow, and Catra grins back, before they turn back to the queen, a united front.

“So, you  _ needed _ him for things earlier?” Adora asks, drawing the words out as suggestively as possible. Catra just silently smirks at Glimmer, who immediately puffs up indignantly, her cheeks going from pink to crimson.

“Oh, fuck you, guys! You’re always hanging off each other and  _ this _ is what you make a big deal about?” she snaps, glaring at them. Catra glances at Adora and she can see that twinkle in her blue eyes, the one that made teasing the other cadets in the Horde so much fun, when they both were in on it.

“I’m sorry, are you saying you need him like I need Adora, because I gotta say, your highness, that’s not stuff you should be doing after a big meal.” she purrs, waggling her eyebrows salaciously. Adora scoffs and says, “Oh, no, I think what she’s saying is Bow and her  _ haven’t  _ been doing the sort of things we do. Which is just tragic, really. I thought he was supposed to be a consort.”

“He’s clearly dropping the ball,” Catra agrees with false solemnity. Glimmer looks between the pair of them before letting out a dramatic groan and stomping off, cape swishing.

“Why did I think being stuck on a ship with you two was a good idea!” she yells back, and Catra and Adora burst out laughing.

“Because you looooove us, Sparkles,” Catra calls after her, as Adora tries to collect herself. She turns and blinks, realising that it’s not exactly just the two of them. Standing shyly and expectantly, the clones remain, watching the pair with varying levels of puzzled interest. Catra tilts her head, and sighs. Right, a big reason for this meeting was to inform their three unexpected crewmates of what the trip was about. The best friend squad didn’t have a lot of faith in Entrapta’s ability to tell them the full details of the mission, beyond ‘SPACE!’. Adora moves to gather her charts, gigging to herself. Still feeling warm from the shared humour, Catra can’t keep the smile off her lips as she turns to address the clones.

“So, what do you three want to do?” she asks the trio, and they look at each other. 

“Not that you have to do _anything_ , of course,” Adora reassures them, over her shoulder. Catra’s tail sharply flicks at that, but she can’t argue. It’s not like she’d been very helpful during her own rescue flight. They had more than enough space for tourists. Kadroh speaks up first.

“Brother Entrapta has done much for providing us with food, but I brought some of my own  _ personal  _ supplies from home to cook!” he tells them, seeming to take a particular delight in saying they were his own. Catra grins, and nods. The miniature food was impressive, but Catra’s stomach is spoiled from palace living. She hadn’t been looking forward to eating nothing but the slightly chemical smelling and artificial tasting meals. 

“I would be capable of aiding Brother Adora in inputting the charts,” Rupert says, sounding less sure of himself, but Adora gives him an encouraging nod. That leaves Abigail, who just stands there, looking sullen, her ears slowly going red.

“I.. have no task,” she mutters, glaring down at her own boots. Catra shrugs.

“You don’t need one. Last time I was in space, I spent half the trip pouting in my room. As long as you’re not doing that, you’re already better than I was.” The clone brightens up at that, looking up and giving Catra a shy smile. 

“Maybe I could… enjoy the stars?” she suggests, ducking her head a bit. Rupert gasps.

“That’s hardly an efficient use of your time,” he says, sounding shocked, and Catra and Adora exchange another glance between them. Adora moves to Rupert, and gently pets his arm. 

“People don’t have to be useful, they can just  _ be _ . That’s fine, Rupert,” she reassures him, and Catra’s ears twitch back as she looks past the pair to the starscape beyond. 

“Wow, can’t imagine where you heard that before, Adora,” she drawls sarcastically to the vastness of space, her tail giving a sharp flick in emphasis. Adora doesn’t dignify that with an answer, and Catra doesn’t need her to. They both know Adora’s a work in progress on _ being _ rather than  _ doing.  _

“Tell you what, Abigail, while your brother helps Adora, you and I can goof off and check out the stars in the arboretum.” Catra goes to take the clone’s arm, and sees her visibly relax, nodding. Catra glances over at Kadroh. “You wanna come?” she offers, and he winks, before shaking his head.

“Oh no, I have something quite elaborate prepared for our evening meal. It involves mar-in-naaades.” he sings out happily, and Catra is sure she can hear Adora start to drool at the idea. 

“Sounds good,” Catra admits, worried her stomach might pipe up to betray her own enthusiasm, “Well, you know where to find us if you’re in between whatever kitchen magic you’re doing.” Catra blows Adora a kiss, before leading Abigail aft. 

Entrapta had been right, Catra really _did_ like the arboretum. There were a lot of scientific reasons Entrapa’d included it, expounding to the feline at great length about air cycling and humidity, but Catra suspects the tech princess was mostly just curious about plants in space as a theoretical idea. The space tree was maintained by magic, of course, but what would happen to regular plants? None of them knew, and Entrapta wanted to be the first to find out.

The stern was dedicated to Darla's new vast, vaulted greenhouse. Even the tallest tree they’d brought barely touching the ceiling, planted in neat, orchard-like rows right to the vast windows facing out into the eternal night. In front of the artificial forest were various planters dedicated to other botanical life, vegetables and bushes, shrubs and herbs, each with their own dedicated spot and helpfully labeled. Catra finds herself wondering how much of this Perfuma had to do for the eager scientist, and makes a note to thank the flower princess when they next call home. 

Emily beeps at them as they enter, shuffling among the neat rows. Catra wasn’t clear why, but the robot also seemed to like the verdant space. Was it possible Emily has gotten used to the florid life all around Etheria and missed it? Catra wouldn’t put anything past the machine anymore. Abigail gives the robot a warm smile, much brighter and more sure than before, and holds up a hand, waiting expectantly as Emily taps it. 

“High five. Nice,” she says, and the robot chirps, bouncing in place, before turning to Catra. No stranger to sudden, unexpected social niceties, Catra echoes the clone’s actions, and forces herself to stay still with her palm up until the bot taps it gently with one of her huge legs. Satisfied, Emily trots off, leaving Catra mystified at the transaction.

“Where did she learn that?” she wonders aloud, and Abigail immediately shrinks down, her ears lowering. 

“I taught her that. Is that a problem?” she asks, and Catra’s struck by how much the clone reminds her of Scorpia in this moment. Big and theoretically scary, but so desperate for approval. Catra’s approval, or just anyone’s, it’s not yet clear, but Catra won’t deny her it. 

“No, no, I’ve just never seen her do that before. It’s certainly… uh… cool.” Catra says, and the clone immediately lights up, nodding.

“Good! I’ve been trying to be more ‘cool’,” Abigail tells her with a very uncool level of enthusiasm. Fortunately for her, Catra no longer takes joy in easy targets, so instead of snark or a cutting remark, the clone merely gets a polite nod as she gestures to the jacket. 

“Yeah, I can tell. The jacket’s a nice touch.” And now Abigail  _ preens,  _ turning around to show it off as if Catra hasn’t seen it a dozen times before.

“Do you really like it?” she asks, and Catra bites back a chuckle. As if this wasn’t aping the stuff she used to wear. Catra finds herself wondering where her crimson waste jacket ended up. She just nods, finding a seat at the roots of one of the trees.

“Yeah. Good motto.” she compliments. Abigail carefully folds her legs to sit down as well, and Catra can see her trying to imitate the feline’s lazy posture, but it was much harder on her build. Clones just weren’t that flexible. No one was. 

“Thank you. Kadroh suggested ‘We should all be our own masters rather than believe the treacherous falsehoods of those who would lead us through deceit.’ but I felt it wouldn’t fit very well,” Abigail explains, flexing her broad shoulders to shrug the jacket off and turning it around to display the back. Catra arches an eyebrow and gives her a lazy smirk.

“Yeah, that was a good call,” she says, grinning as she pictures that essay of a phrase instead. Very Kadroh. He probably has that written on one of his scarves. “No Lords, No Masters” punched harder though. Catra approves. She traces a claw lightly around the tree. 

“What’s the tree mean? It doesn’t really fit the rest of the stuff. I would have expected like, a dragon, or a skull.” she asks, and Abigail blushes.

“It’s the tree that the Velvet Glove was transformed into, in the final act of liberation for my brothers and I,” the clone notes in a voice tinged with awe. Her eyes sparkle with the deep shine of true, firm belief as she looks on her chosen symbol of freedom. Catra tilts her head, and lowers her voice.

“You’re not just here to see space, are you, Abby,” she murmurs, her tail swaying slowly as her heart warms to the strange, awkward clone in front of her. “You’re here to free the Melogs.” Abby looks at her, and now it’s not Scorpia who Catra’s reminded of, but Adora, that earnest strength, that glowing dedication for others. 

“ _ Yes! _ ” the clone says, with a ferocity unlike anything Catra has heard from the soft-spoken woman before. Catra grins back, fangs out.

“Fuck yeah! I guess you’re part of my team, then.” she says, holding her hand out. Abigail looks at it before giving it a slap. Catra snorts. “That was supposed to be a handshake, but close enough.” She finds herself wondering where Abigail learned about high fives. Catra hopes this won’t end up being like the winking, only with a greater chance of intergalactic political misunderstandings. 

“Your team,” Abigail says, sounding in awe of the idea, and now Catra’s the one preening inside. It was weird to have anyone excited to work with her, but every time it happened, a part of her thrills at the sensation. Of being chosen. Truly, Adora’s choosing was the most important, but Adora was a biased weirdo and fell in love with Catra for some reason. And the princesses… well, that started off out of politeness, Catra’s sure. But sometimes, something like this would happen. A person who had no reason to be nice to Catra, to want to help Catra, just… choosing to. Many of the clones have picked up little traits from Hordak or Entrapta, but only one has added slashes to her clothes. Has decided to base her pallet on what Catra wears. Is currently adjusting her legs  _ again  _ to try and sit like Catra can. Shame she’s picked a terrible role model.

“I do have one question?” the clone asks, her ears drooping slightly. Catra gives her leg a light, friendly tap with her tail and shoots her a lopsided smile.

“Go on,” she encourages the woman, and Abigail nods, squeezing her jacket with her hands. 

“What, exactly, does ‘Abby’ mean?” 

Catra snorts.

“It’s a nickname. Short for Abigail, right?” she explains, and the clone looks intrigued. 

“ _ Can _ we have different names?” she wonders aloud, and Catra’s worried if she grins any harder, her face might stick like that, ruining her reputation for good. 

“Kadroh doesn’t have the same name a week straight, so I’m not sure why you think you can’t, big gal.” 

“He doesn’t have two at one time, though,” Abigail notes, and Catra shrugs in reply. 

“I don’t have to call you that if it bugs you, but I like nicknames. That’s why Glimmer is Sparkles and Bow is Arrow Boy and Adora is…” idiot “...a lot of names.” Catra finishes, lamely. As amusing as it would be to teach the impressionable clone about insults as nicknames, she doesn’t need the added worry of Abigail innocently calling some dangerous person ‘asshole’ out here where there’s already a thousand ways to die. When they get back to Etheria, though, all bets are off.

“No! No.. it feels cool to have two names at the same time. Very individual!” Abigail reassures her, looking pleased. Catra nods, turning her gaze to the starscape beyond. In space, there’s even more to see than back home, and the velvet eternal night blazes with stars. Catra remembers it being one of the few things she’d liked on Prime’s ship, the great expanse of the universe. It made her feel small at the time, and alone, but that was nothing new, and at least it was beautiful.

“So, just wanted to look at the stars?” Catra asks after a long moment of silence, her tail curling around her legs as she relaxes. The rich scent of the artificial forest is soothing and homelike, even if the stark lack of magic compared to the Whispering Woods keeps the illusion from truly carrying her away. The clone nods. 

“I've seen them many times before, but back then they weren't important except for navigation. It’s nice to be able to look at them just because they look nice.” Abigail hugs an arm around her legs. “It’s nice to come back to space and see them all here, still. It feels friendly.” Catra nods. 

“Back on Etheria, we never saw them until after we broke out of Despondos. It’s crazy to think that they’ve always just been here, that they’re the same stars the First Ones saw thousands of years ago. So much the same, Adora can just use their old maps.” Catra says, more thinking aloud than any real conversation. “Before we saw them, we just thought stars were like some mythical thing. They were all named after old legendary people of the past, even I’d heard of a couple.” This seems to interest Abigail, and she leans forward, her own ears perking.

“Really? We … ah, Horde Prime just gave them coordinates. Of course, if a culture had a name for their world he used it, but the stars are all just where he found them. It was… you know, more efficient that way. Proper.” she explains, as if Catra didn’t know, didn’t remember the hive mind. “What sort of names?” 

Catra peers out the window, looking for a likely candidate, and finds it in a distant, pinkish star that stands out nicely from its siblings. She points it out. 

“See that one? We called her Sheila, queen of the underworld.”Catra explains, keeping her face neutral as Abigail’s eyes light up. “The blue one a little to the left of her is Bob, destroyer of trousers.” 

Catra spends the rest of the lazy afternoon recounting various fictional tales of her own creation, making such classical legends as ‘General Gregory’s missing sock Nebula’ and ‘the Beth and Becky twin stars’. It’s wonderful to have a warm, excited, impressionable person looking up to her and hanging on her every word, but Catra wouldn’t be Catra if she didn’t have at least a little fun with it. Not her fault Abigail picked the worst role model of the bunch of them. 

“You keep mentioning First Ones stories, but did your people have their own? Ah, the cat people?” Abigail finally asks her, eyes still showing stars of her own, her chin cupped in her hands. Catra’s tail flicks sharply at that, and her ears tilt back, just a little. 

“No. I don’t know any legends from my own people,” she says, carefully, the question flicking an old scab carelessly off her corroded soul. Abigail nods, looking thoughtful.

“It’s the same for me,” she says, and Catra supposes it would be. Horde Prime’s history was only Horde Prime. Whatever his people had been before, they were long gone. The heroes and villains and gods and monsters of their stories are now more extinct than even the First Ones. She stares into space, looking at the sparkling rose hue of now-Sheila.

“But that just means we can make new ones. New stories. Like how our war ship is now a tree. Maybe one day, my people will name a star for that,” Abigail carries on, her voice soft. Catra feels the smile quirk the edge of her lips before she can stop it.

“Abby, the fucking tree is _ already _ in space. It doesn’t need a tree constellation,” she points out, and the clone shrugs awkwardly, blushing, before turning her emerald eyes out to the stars once more. 

“Still.. That could be nice.” Catra murmurs to herself, and ponders the implications of a new mythology for this new age, personal as a fingerprint and vibrant as the trees around them, until they’re called to supper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think everyone is very stressed right now, so please enjoy our characters finally getting to travel space in this, theoretically, space adventure story. I told myself when I started writing this that I would try to use old She-Ra characters instead of OCs, and for the most part that is and will remain true, but I just couldn't find a way around adding some new clones. I hope you enjoy them!


	14. Chapter 14

Catra had underestimated how hard doing nothing would be. She had become an expert in relaxing back in Bright Moon, luxuriating in free time whenever it was offered. She didn’t feel the same drive Adora always does to do things, to find a task simply because the hours were there. But in Bright Moon, and even back in the Fright Zone, there were always places she could go. Spaces to explore, people to spy on, corners to hide. Conversely, after the first few hours onboard, Catra could have drawn the entire layout of Darla from memory. When she tried to explain it to Adora, her girlfriend laughed, pointing out Catra just curls up to nap most of the time anyways. And she was right, of course. Catra can’t even explain to herself, but she finds herself feeling restless, her skin itching under her fur and her legs twitchy whenever she tries to curl up in a corner. 

So now, once again, Catra’s pacing up and down the halls, from stern to bow and back again, in a convoluted circle. It doesn’t help that she really _ doesn’t  _ have anything she can do, at the moment. This wasn’t their last trip where the whole prickly strange _ thing  _ of getting to know herself, Adora, the others filled her hours and kept her occupied. She’d help set up their itinerary, the tactics they’d need to approach things with, but it was at the wait stage of things and until they arrived at a world, or some other unexpected event occurred, she had nothing to put her mind to. She needs  _ something _ , and she hates that she does. It feels like surrender.

Grumbling to herself, Catra taps on the door she’s stopped in front of in her circuit. She almost hopes no one will answer, that they’ll all be too busy to do so and she can walk on by, pretending she never did this, but it swishes open instead with alarming alacrity. Bow looks happily surprised to see her there, and quickly ushers her in, Melog and Entrapta looking up from where they were sitting around the lab.

“Oh, good! We really appreciate this,” Bow says, heading back to grab his pad as Melog stands to greet her personally, making soft sounds of welcome. Catra smiles and caresses them, before giving the others an easy shrug. 

“It’s no problem.” she says, finding a table covered in papers and sitting on top of them with a smug smile, her tail flicking as Bow sighs at her choice, but until Adora or Glimmer, she knows he won’t say anything. Entrapta also won’t say anything, because she won’t see the problem. If she needed anything, she’d just push Catra aside and tug it out from under her ass. Works for the feline. “Glimmer whined at me to stop by, but she wouldn’t say why. What do you nerds want from me?”

Entrapta hops up from her chair. “So, decoding language is proving a bit more difficult than we expected, because starting with a baseline of one language isn’t enough to develop a full suite of translation AI pathways.” Melog flicks an ear.

_ They wanted to start with me because it would be simple, but they have not been satisfied with the results.  _

Catra chuckles a little. So it wasn’t as easy as the dork patrol said. She figured as much. Bow looks between Melog and her and frowns.

“Catra, you  _ were _ translating exactly what Melog said this whole time, right? You weren’t, you know, adding things?” he asks in a voice that’s paternally understanding, like a squad captain trying to play the nice card and asking for people to rat themselves out for lesser punishment. But for once, Catra doesn’t have to fake her mild indignant innocence.

“Bow, I might lie about a lot of things but I’m not going to fuck about with what Melog’s saying. I mean, yeah, for simple shit like when they wanted food or wanted to come with us, I shortened it. But when they had something specific they wanted to say, I tried to use their words exactly. ” Melog nods in turn, looking equally huffy.

_ I have told them as much, but I do not think they believed me. Or understood, fully,  _ they inform her, with a small grumble of frustration. Melog has explained some of the difficulties to her already, when they lounged together after meals, but Catra hadn’t been allowed in on the actual translation work, for fear of tainting the results. Entrapa frowns at this answer as well, tapping a few things into her screen. 

“Then our program is working worse than I thought.” she says, picking up a pencil with her hair to scratch her neck with it. Catra looks between her and Bow, and arches an eyebrow. 

“So, what, you want me to translate while Melog gives their answers?” she asks. Beats walking around the ship all day, and it could be fun to see if she could get Melog to curse. Bow sighs, making his own notes.

“Actually, we were hoping you were at least partially fluent in some other Etherian languages besides the common one. That way we can build things up from as many different language families as possible.” he explains, and Catra sits up, ears cocking forward. “We’ve messaged Mermista to send us a selkie dictionary when she can, and Scorpia’s going to try to look through the old records for her family’s native language, if they had one. Adora did old First Ones and Glimmer…” Bow clicks his tongue, letting the sentence hang, and looking strangely uncomfortable. This has Catra intrigued, and turns her attention to the other scientist.

“Glimmer didn’t know any other languages, which I said was surprising, since she’s the head of the entire Alliance.” Entrapta helpfully fills in, and Catra smirks. She can imagine how much her majesty enjoyed hearing that critique. “Even _ I _ know several programming languages, and what Emily’s beeps mean.” Entrapta continues, and Bow’s expression grows even more sheepish.

“Glimmer suggested you might know a few languages,” Bow says, and Catra’s ear flicks, seeing that careful, polite look on his face. Catra remembers Sparkles seeming particularly grumpy when she came to tell her to go to the lab, so she turns back to Entrapta. 

“How did she word it?” she coyly asks the much less emotionally astute princess. Entrapa scrolls down on something and answers without looking up, her tone as matter-of-fact as always.

“Oh, she said if leaders always know so much, maybe we should just ask you, since you led the Horde.” Catra snorts out a quick laugh as Entrapta leaves out the dripping angry sarcasm that surely soaked that phrase when it was delivered. Bow's ears are crimson now, and she can practically feel him waiting for her reaction to that. She lets him stew, her tail casually sweeping a folder onto the floor. Catra guesses her language instructors were right about how important paying attention in class was, though she doubts any of them saw her going to space, or _anywhere_ that wasn’t a shallow grave. 

“Oh, Sparkles was completely right, I do know _so much_." Catra purrs. "Adora could have told you a few too, we had to learn most of the same ones in training, but I know Lizard-a, Lizard-b, Beast and Dog fluently. Can probably give you the basics for a half dozen others.” Catra can't help but brag. She’d actually been _ better  _ at Adora in languages, a rare thing, which made her girlfriend’s newfound ease at translation all the more surprising when Catra first found out. Bow stares, shock naked on his face, and she feels a frisson of delight at that. “What? Don’t look so surprised.” she snaps at him with a grin.

“That  _ can’t _ be what those languages are actually called. _ Dog?! _ ” he sputters, aghast, and Catra feels her pride melting into mild annoyance. He’s right, but it’s not like the Horde was polite. Catra rolls her eyes. This will clearly take some explanation for a child of the rebellion. 

“It’s what the Horde called them.” Bow still looks uncomfortable, and she frowns. ”Fine, what do _you_ speak, Arrow Boy?”

“Nothing except Etherian and a bit of when my dads tried to teach me First Ones,” he replies, a hint of annoyance in his tone, “But I don’t really understand how that’s relevant, Catra.” Catra isn’t surprised. He’d probably never even  _ met _ someone who didn’t look like him until his teens.

“Right, so take what Rogelio spoke, that’s what we called Lizard-a. And it’s  _ called  _ that because it’s actually really fuckling difficult to say with the wrong vocal chords.” She grabs a paper, flips it over to the blank back, and snatches Entrapta’s pencil. Rck-glluh was the best transliteration she could do for the back of the throat croak it actually represents. “Scorpia’s still speaking to Rogelio and the rest of them, ask her if she can get him to send you something. Lizard-b is what the desert reptile race tended to use.  _ That  _ I can speak fine, but Adora would be spitting all over herself if she tried.” She hisses out its name, and Bow nods along, clearly not entirely on board with the naming convention, but following it at least. “There’s Lizard-c as well, but I can only write it. And that’s just the ones the Horde knew, I bet Double Trouble’s people have another reptile tongue.” 

Warming to the subject, Catra lists out a few more, writing them on the paper as she goes. “Beast is… fuck, now that I say it out loud it was kinda shitty we had an entire group we just called beast men, but I don’t even know what they call themselves. A lot of our leaders came from it. It’s not too hard to pick up, nothing someone who speaks Etherian couldn’t say. It’s called Gulmak. And Dog is actually like two related languages, but they’re close enough if you know one you know about 80 percent of the other, so the Horde just taught it like it was the same with extra vocabulary.”

Bow’s look opens into something much more warm, with a touch of respect in it. “I guess I never thought of the Horde even caring about what other people spoke. I figured they'd brainwash...um, I mean train you to all speak the same language.” Catra grins, obscurely proud that the Horde was better in this one area than the oh so enlightened Alliance. 

“Everyone had to understand common Etherian, but sometimes we’d get late recruits that weren’t fluent. Or they’re like Rogelio, and speaking it is just as hard for them as speaking his language is for us. You either never use them in combat, you wait twenty minutes for them to tell you one sentence, or you adapt. The official line was that everyone was equal in the Horde, and that we all had to work together instead of how people were divided into kingdoms and cultures and races by the princesses, but that was just half of it. The whole place ran on paranoia, and nothing makes leaders more paranoid than not knowing what the grunts are talking about, so you had to understand everything your squad could say. The higher up you were, the more languages you had to speak, to be able to watch your back. I know how to say ‘dead bitch’ in 17 now...” Catra stops as her brain catches up to her mouth, and then she slaps her forehead.

“ _ Oh, for fuck’s _ … Entrapta, Hordak  _ has _ to have known all these languages. He was always spying.  _ You  _ know that. There’s no way he would have been able to stay in power for 40 years if anyone could drop back to their native tongue and be safe.” She drops the pencil and paper and groans, rubbing her eyes. That’s probably the real, true reason for the official language lesson policy, she realises. Why have just  _ one  _ spy if no single race could reliably mask their own intentions from the others? “ So you don't need to ask a dozen people, just get him to send you his secret dictionaries or whatever.” she finishes with a grumble. Entrapta’s expression lights up, and she nods in vigorous agreement. 

“Oooh, that’s an excellent point! I’ll ask him to send me any suitable files in my nightly debriefing!” she says cheerfully. Bow glares at Catra, and she shrugs. The squad is positive that sending detailed information back to the former dictator is against the spirit, if not the letter, of the peace agreement he signed, but there was literally no way to prevent it. Entrapta would have done it whether they allowed her or not. Might as well make use of it.

“So, is there anything else you want me for?” Catra asks, swinging her legs just enough to disturb a few of the stacks of paper around the room. Melog gets up, and stretches, before bumping her leg. 

_ You should suggest translating again. That way I do not have to spend my trip in here.  _ Catra grins at the alien, surprised at how impatient they sound. They’ve really been picking up the nuances of emotion. A month ago, she would have said they were as implacable as the moons and the stars. 

“How about your native language?” Entrapta suggests, and Catra feels her face freeze as the woman obliviously carries on. “You’ll be able to speak that better than Hordak will since it’s _yours_ , so we could focus on that! “ Catra feels her tail starting to puff out, and even Melog’s mane begins to flicker into crimson, but she closes her eyes. Catra takes in a deep breath, smelling the metal scent of Darla, grown sharp from the sweat and oils of the people in it, the dry sweetness of paper, the softness of Bow and the tang of grease and electricity on Entrapta. She holds it and listens to the sounds of the ship, the gentle hums and deep thrum, the distant murmur of a conversation almost out of range, the sturdy steps of Adora walking somewhere down the hall. She lets it back out.

“Entrapta, Catra never knew her own people, so she won’t know that,” Bow says, his kind voice cutting through her thoughts. She hears Entrapta apologize, brief but sincere. Catra opens her eyes and reaches out, mindful of her claws, to squeeze Bow on the arm, a silent thanks. Melog’s mane melts back to a neutral teal, and they rub along his legs, echoing Catra’s appreciation. Taking a second, steadying breath, she turns back to Entrapta.

“Yeah. That’s right. So I won’t be any help there. Just with Melog,” Catra explains, firmly steering the conversation away from any further questions about it. “Listen, you already have your base data or whatever with Melog, so just go over your questions again WITH me, and maybe you can figure out what you missed.” Bow gives her hand, still on his arm, an encouraging pat. Catra snatches it back, sticking her tongue out at him. Enough softness for now. He merely smiles in return. 

“Having you here could really help. I suspect a lot of Melog’s vocalizations aren’t in our hearing range, and you’re way more sensitive than we are,” Bow says, and Melog gives an agreeable sound.

_ I also have very broad spectrum hearing and sight, so this is quite possible? _ they agree, moving to give Bow an affectionate nuzzle. They all turn to Entrapta, who’s grown worryingly quiet. She’s moved over to one of the keyboards that dot the lab, several screens flicking to life, and is pinging between them. Catra sighs, and readies herself to repeat what they said. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Darla, prepare a frequency test from 30 hertz until, say, 75,000 hertz,” Entrapta calls out to the room at large, before finally turning to the three of them as if nothing was more normal. “Okay, put up your hand when you hear something and put it down when you don’t. I’ll note the differences!” Her hand hovers over a keyboard and she yells “Ready!” In anyone else, it would have been a question, but Catra knows better and isn’t even surprised when after a second she can hear a faint low sound, at the back of her gut. She puts her hand up, dutifully following the instructions for this impromptu experiment, only to realise Melog’s paw was already aloft. Bow and Entrapta’s hands raise a heartbeat later, and Catra can see the princess tapping different keys with her spare one. The barely there sound quickly becomes a pure tone, slowly rising in pitch, until first Entrapta’s hand drops, and then Bow’s. It rises more and more, setting Catra’s teeth on edge and reminding her why she hated mice before, mercifully, it passes out of her hearing range too, and she can drop her hand. Only Melog’s arm remains up, and when it finally lowers Entrapta informs them that Catra’s range is thousands of.. whatevers more than a typical Etherian, and Melog has an even broader one than that. 

“I think your vocal range theory might be correct,” Entrapta adds, and Bow beams with a certain smug delight Catra’s rarely seen in him. With a few more commands, Darla presents a trio of screens, hovering in the air for all to see. The largest shows lists of words and phrases, each with its own weird picture of mountains beside it. Catra doesn’t recognise it, and it seems rather elaborate for writing. This time, Bow’s the one to bring her up to speed, explaining that they’re a visualization of how sound looked.

“Right now, the waveforms we have work well enough for individual words, like ‘me’ and ‘you’ and ‘food’ and things like that, but once we try to get Melog to express anything complex, our translation software completely breaks down.” Melog licks a paw, primly, and gives Bow a long suffering sigh. Catra can only imagine how many times they’ve been asked to say specific things over and over to test these issues. 

“But Darla’s microphone was set to listen to the standard range of sounds that a person would make while filtering out non-vocal interference. With this new top range, I can adjust her settings and we should have no problem! Her instruments are sensitive enough to pick them up, she just needs to be told to listen, isn’t that right, Darla?” Entrapta says, stroking a wall tenderly.

_ <<I am only capable of doing as requested>> _

“I know!” Entrapta says with a worrying level of warm enthusiasm. Catra hops off the table, and reaches down to ruffle through Melog’s mane, her tail swishing with her own silent eagerness, even as she tries to remain impassive. 

“So, what’s the vocab you need us to go through?” she asks with a studied air of boredom. Entrapta looks up, puzzled.

“Oh! We don’t need  _ you _ anymore, don’t worry!” Entrapta says dismissively, and Catra’s ears twitch down for a second. Bow gives her a sheepish look, before running an arm around her to give her a squeeze.

“Listen, I’m really sorry we dragged you in here for nothing. I know how much you like your personal time.” he apologizes, gently steering her out of the lab. “We really didn’t mean to waste your time, so if you could not shred my pillow in retribution, I’d appreciate it. Okay, thanks, you’re the best!” The last words are rushed out as she’s pushed back out of the lab, the door shutting on her shocked face before she can react. 

Catra growls out, “ _ Fuck! _ ” before dragging her claws over the blank, impassive face of the door, gouging the perfect surface in frustration. Nice to be  _ needed. _ She stalks off, ears flat and tail whipping from side to side. After a few moments, Darla’s healing systems kick in, and the slashes melt away, leaving smooth, perfect metal, as if Catra’d never been there at all.

* * *

Catra can’t stop being Catra, on a fundamental level. After Adora left, the warmth and playfulness of her personality, the eagerness to find someone who understood her, was slowly chipped away, time and time again. Sometimes the fault was her own, a deliberate hardening of her heart, a choice of cruelty. And in the past, she would have counted the other times as her own fault as well, letting herself be soft, to hope, to trust. She would have called herself stupid, each time she was stung by betrayal when she opened up. A lesson she had to learn over and over again. 

The mistake so many people made of her conversion to the side of good was that Catra would become sparkles and rainbows. Every dark emotion, every mean joke would vanish in a puff of friendship. That the same pruning of personality that happened in the years after Adora left would occur in the opposite direction, reducing her to a flattened version of herself. Her time in the Alliance  _ did  _ bring back a younger, happier, more excited Catra, one she’d almost forgotten ever lived, but it didn’t kill the Catra who delighted in pranks, in sarcastic remarks, in needling others because she can. Taking that away would be like cutting her claws down, or yanking out her fangs. No, Catra was still Catra.

All being one of the good guys did was introduce the rules.

The rules stated that there was nothing wrong with Catra partaking in her particular brand of fun, not really, but she had to pick her targets. The Scorpias and Kyles of the world were safe, now, from her actions. The weak, the innocent, the well meaning and confused could go about their days only seeing the best of her. The Glimmers and Mermistas and Huntaras, people who knew the game, who understood it and played back, who _ fought _ back, they got to see the darker side of her. They were  _ fun.  _ And the truly cruel? The bullies like she used to be? Well, it was good being good, wasn’t it, and showing them a taste of their own medicine. It had a particular satisfaction. 

The rules said she had to try her best to not just lash out, when things hurt, but especially not to lash  _ down.  _ Perfuma has done a lot in teaching her to forgive her mistakes, but the tough ones, the Glimmers, the Mermistas, Adora herself… they never let her get away with being lazy about forgiveness. Letting emotions become an easy excuse. 

The rules worked because they’re Catra’s rules, internal and private, a personal game to see how long she can keep this up. 

The rules said that when she rounded the corner into the blandly worried face of Rupert, stiff and uncomfortable, that she had to stop. She had to breathe, to push back her short mane, and still her tail. Taking her anger out on a wall, or a pillow was within the rules. Taking it out on a clone that, like all the others, feels fundamentally young and innocent was not. 

“Brother Catra,” he says, standing at attention, and she smiles. Most of the clones had moved on to gendering the various members of the Alliance correctly, but she’d always be a Brother. After Prime’s use of Little Sister, Catra had  _ insisted. _ Currently, the clone appears to be carefully cleaning the already spotless surface of a table. The entire mess hall sparkles, and Catra had passed him several times already doing this during her pacing circuit this morning. Straddling a chair the wrong way, she leans over the back and looks up at him.

“At ease, soldier,” Catra drawls, and Rupert flushes.

“I am no longer a soldier, Brother, nor do I have any desire…” he starts to sputter, and Catra snorts, a bubble of tension leaving through her laugh. 

“It’s a joke. It means you can relax for a minute.” He turns almost as magenta as his hair and chosen accessories, but nods. His posture seems no less stiff, though. Catra arches an eyebrow, and gestures to another perfectly clean chair. “Sit.” she says, edging her tone into a command, which the clone eagerly follows, legs together, back straight, and his hands tucked in his lap. She can see this is going to take some work. 

“So,” she asks, tracing a claw along the mirror-shine of the table between them, “Is there a reason you’ve cleaned this table, what, four times in the last hour?” Rupert looks at his cloth, and at the table, and appears to ponder the question. 

“Currently, none of the other members of the crew have tasks I could assist them with, and Sister Glimmer said that.. Ah.. my hovering was ‘too much’ and I should find something else to do.” Rupert admits. Catra remembers how he was always at her shoulder when she visited, like a nervous butler. He brightens up, and adds, “But I realise I hadn’t asked you if there was anything I could do for you, brother, so please, if you have the least thing, I’d be delighted to help!”

Catra drums her claws over the tabletop before stopping, tucking her them away when she sees Rupert’s worried expression as he glances at the slight marring that left on the perfect surface. “Can’t help you there. I’m pretty useless right now too,” she admits, ears sagging down. His own fin-like ears mirror hers as he watches. They sit there in sad silence for a long moment.

“When was the last time you’ve taken a break?” Catra asks him, though she’s pretty sure she knows the answer. Short of mealtimes, Rupert's either working on a task or hanging around hoping to be given a task. His expression tightens just a little. 

“I take sufficient breaks during mealtimes,” he says, confirming her suspicion. Catra glances around the immaculate space, her tail sweeping over the clean floor. 

“I know we keep telling you this, but you are allowed to just relax, Rupert.” she says with an easy smile. Rupert lets out a small, choked groan and closes his eyes. His hands tighten in his lap.

“Brother, please understand that I appreciate your concern, but unlike what I was led to believe, space is not ‘relaxing’.” Catra can practically hear the quotes he made around the word, like tongs to carefully pluck a disgusting thing from his phrase. Still, this was a new one. 

“So, you were excited to come to space because…?” she asks, ears perking as curiosity bubbles inside. Rupert carefully folds his cleaning cloth, and sets it on the table. 

“Brother Kadroh has been particularly worried that my personality is retaining too many aspects of my previous life as an illustrious brother and aid to the will of Prime. He told me he personally found his time in space, on this ship, ‘relaxing’ and ‘enlightening’ and hoped I would feel the same.” Rupert sighs, and slumps for a moment, before straightening a loose, vibrant pink hair that had strayed from his crest and returning to his dignified posture. ”I feel he may have been mistaken.”

Catra swings her legs. The ship was its own, liminal space, a place with its own rules, its own feeling, not quite home. While her rebirth in here was rough, she couldn’t imagine a better place to have done it in. But now, it just felt slow, and small, and frustrating. 

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean. This isn’t exactly space, this is just, like, a small box,” she says, gesturing to the mess hall. “Compared to Dryl, it’s gotta feel pretty snug.” Rupert’s ears perk, and he gives her a terse nod. 

“Precisely,” he agrees. “I do not think Kadroh feels the same way, though, because he merely points out how much work Sister Entrapta has put into expanding the vehicle.” Rupert looks around the room, and sighs. “Even now, all I desire to do is to find something else to be doing. Not to offend you, of course, Brother.” 

Catra’s rules are designed around many aspects of her personality. Of how she handles her emotions, of how she interacts with others. 

One of the rules, the deepest, oldest one, was ‘if you have an idea, a thought, an adventure, follow it. Do it, because you might not get a second chance!’ Did this cause trouble sometimes when she had work and responsibilities and meetings? Sure, but it brought joy and memories that far outweighed any of that. And now, Catra has a wonderful idea. 

“We should just go into space then! Take a walk outside the ship,” she says, sitting up straight, eyes bright. Rupert is taken aback, and he looks around the galley, as if expecting someone to appear to his aid. 

“Brother Catra, I’m not certain that would be safe. There’s a reason Prime’s fleet kept us on the inside of the ship,” he says, with a worried little smile. “The vacuum of space is highly hostile to most varieties of life.” Catra snorts and rolls her eyes, grinning at the clone. 

“You live in Dryl, with Entrapta. Nothing about that is  _ safe _ . Besides, you’ve been safe this whole trip, and it’s not helping. C’mon, live a little.”

“I.. I suppose that’s technically correct, but I still remain uncertain of the usefulness of this.” Rupert tries to argue. “Surely there’s better things you and I could be doing.” Catra blows a long, slow raspberry, before rolling her eyes. 

“Rupert, you’re so fucking bored you polished a mirror shine into the chair I now have my ass on. Listen, you’ll even get to see me in a space suit, with little ears.” Catra makes a face, adding, “I’ve been told it’s cute and I do NOT willingly put it on for just anyone.” 

The rules said there was nothing wrong with some bullying, if it was to get someone else to have fun. And Catra’s had years of practice at this sort of forceful persuasion. It was the only way Adora had ever done anything the least bit interesting when they were kids. And Rupert was no match for Adora in his defenses. She can see him crumbling under the assault, until finally he sighs.

“I suppose I will aid you in this task. For your own safety.” Rupert says, stiffly. Catra laughs.

“Sure, buddy, whatever helps you sleep at night.

* * *

While the idea to exit Darla for a bit was impulsive, Catra isn’t a teenager anymore, and she makes sure to do it properly. Check the tethers, the space suits, the airlock, the space suits again. And, of course, to make sure people know they’re outside. So far, the trip has been obnoxiously dull, but Catra’s well aware of her luck, and she doesn’t want Darla to jump up in speed while they’re out there, snapping their tenuous leashes and leaving them stranded. It was essential they had a buddy back on the ship. 

Adora gives her a quick kiss, her eyes bright. “If you like this, we can do another spacewalk together!” she suggests, before purring, “Alone.” Catra barks out a laugh, shoving her away with a roll of her eyes.

“Shut up, dummy, it’s just space!” she growls, her tail curling affectionately around one of Adora’s legs before letting go. Adora snort-giggles, and winks back, completely undeterred by Catra’s rejection. Adora was their insurance in case anything happened. Not just because Catra trusted the woman with her life, but also because She-Ra was pretty much the only thing that COULD conduct a spontaneous space rescue. Apparently, being a sexy goddess made of magic exempted her from a lot of the rules of reality. They both turn to watch Rupert conduct his fifth check of the space walk gear. 

“Is.. he gonna be okay?” Adora asks, sotto voce, and Catra shrugs. 

“You know what they say, the only way to swim is to get chucked in the deep end,” she replies. Adora nods in agreement. Catra sticks her helmet on, the ears still there in spite of several revisions by Entrapta. She clears her throat. “You hear me?” 

Adora nods, and says, “Roger that, kitty cat!” What a dork. Adora goes over and shoves the clone’s helmet into his hands, grinning. Catra can’t make out the argument, the voices muffled and her own breathing loud in the small space, but she’s sure she can gather the general notes of Rupert insisting on yet another safety check, begging Adora for any other task, and then reluctantly agreeing to ‘watch’ Catra on this walk. Adora flashes her a thumbs up, and Catra drags the now helmeted clone into the airlock. 

“You linked in, Rupert?” she asks, clipping their tethers into place. His sigh is particularly audible, right against her ear, the comms just as efficient as before. 

“Yes. I still have strong doubts of the safety of this, but Adora has assured me you all have done this in the past.” he says. Even through the heavy suit, Catra can feel the tension in his body. She slips her hand down to grasp his, and after a moment, he squeezes. She does not bring up the much less reassuring fact that everyone _else_ has done this, but not Catra herself.

“You ready?” she asks, and Rupert’s helmet bobs. Catra flashes Adora a wave, and she closes the inner door. After a moment, the walls begin to flash, and Catra can hear Darla drone over their earpieces _< <Airlock procedure initiated>>_ Monitors in the suit tell her the air pressure around them has started to drop, pumping out of the small space. The digits drop into the red, before letting her know that the airlock was full of air no more. 

“Darla? Open the outer hatch.” Catra says.

_ <<Affirmative. Hatch opening. Please enjoy your trip.>> _

That one was new. She wonders if Entrapta programmed that, or Bow had slipped that line in during their tandem work on translation. Rupert flinches as the lock slides open, silent as a midnight grave. Before them, the stars are even more vibrant, writhed with bands of clouds, distant and intriguing in the inky night. Catra feels the death grip on her hand slowly loosen.

“I… expected we would be shot out. Into space. Rather violently…?” he suggests, his voice strained. Catra wrinkles her nose, and grins to herself. Already, she can feel her heart racing. Something about this brought that itch under her fur and that twitch to her legs, but now in only the best way. The universe was there, just waiting.

“Race you!” she says with a laugh, dropping her hand and pressing off of the safe, boring deck of the airhatch. This was like jumping through the trees of the Whispering Woods, only better! Catra was  _ made _ for this. 

“This is unfair, as you cannot start a race without declaring the rules and… Catra! Wait!” she hears Rupert, as near as if he was beside her, and she turns to see the clone clumsily follow. And with that, they’re out into the vast beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the description of the fic as I worried it just wasn't showing the atmosphere of the work as a whole anymore. I'm always so reluctant to give too much away, but I don't want to drive people off from the work! I hope you all like it and weren't too confused!


	15. Chapter 15

“I can’t believe you went out into space without telling me!”

Catra’s ear flicks, and she peers up at Entrapta. The scientist looked hurt, in a pouty sort of way, that she had been forgotten in the spacewalk. Curled up on a seat of her hair, the princess gestures with her fork. Catra lets that stew in her head for a moment as she figures out how to respond, picking at her own meal. 

The spacewalk had been exactly what she’d needed. It filled her body with energy and immediately gave her an infinity to expend that energy into. Swinging around by her tether, using momentum and jets, she found the same excitement of scampering through the Fright Zone, or the Whispering Woods, only more, and better. The snug helmet should have been claustrophobic, the star-speckled beyond overwhelming in its massive uncaring emptiness, but instead Catra felt cozy, safe and sound. Rupert and her ended up sitting on Darla, watching the slow sweep of space as they all moved through it. 

“It was not a particularly fun experience,” Rupert says, carefully cutting his own food into small pieces. Rupert did not share Catra’s transcendent experience out of the ship. He turned on the magnets on his boots and paced the surface of Darla, watching Catra’s manic energy balefully until it finally ran out. “It was acceptable, though, for exercise and I would be happy to inform you when I go back out, good Sister.” 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t think of asking you,” Catra adds, “I’ll tell you first the next time I’m taking a walk outside.” The whole reason she went out in the first place was because she’d been kicked out of Entrapta’s lab, of course, but Entrapta wouldn’t have seen any issue being interrupted. 

Entrapta brightens up immediately, and a vine of hair reaches out to pat Catra roughly on her head, like praising a child. “Thank you!” she says warmly, before returning to her meal, tiny portions of Kadroh’s cooking, perfectly bite sized. The hair pets for a moment longer, and not for the first time, Catra finds herself wondering just how autonomous it is, but it pulls back just as her patience runs dry.

The pristine mess hall was slowly gaining the scuffs and smudges of life as they all ate together, Kadroh’s spread down the centre of the long table. The clone hovered over them as they tried the strangely spiced and sauced meats, the crisp vegetables fresh from the ground. Adora’s already on her second helping, and Glimmer is quietly swapping radishes off her plate onto Bow’s while he chats with Abigail. Catra hadn’t even bothered to fake not picking them out of her own salad, which was better than Melog, quietly spitting theirs onto the floors as they ate from their own plate.

“Rupert is going to lose his mind when he sees that,” she murmurs, bapping the alien on their nose with her tail.

 _I do not understand why Kadroh insists on putting culinary traps into our meals. I feel like Rupert should express his displeasure to his brother first,_ Melog replies, between bites. 

Melog arrived at dinner with Bow and Entrapta in an especially testy mood, skulking under the table and refusing to leave, even for Adora. Catra finally put their dish on the floor, Melog laying among everyone’s legs, eating with them but not. Things were not going well in language studies, and Melog was finished being part of the experiment. No amount of pleading from Bow, dark eyes glistening with tears, would sway them. The only thing Catra could do was confirm Melog’s specifics for the others, but she made no effort to convince them herself. Bow pokes at his steak, fitfully, his bright enthusiasm drained. 

“I was certain we had the key to this,” he mutters, crestfallen. Glimmer rubs the base of his neck sympathetically, as she ferries more radish into his food. “We’re, what, four days out from our first stop, and we might not even be able to speak to them!”

Entrapta, for her part, seems unbothered, already discussing with Kadroh her plans on cross-indexing the grammar and vocabulary from the old Horde language files. Catra wasn’t surprised. Nothing got the tech princess down for long; one failure was always just the stepping stone to multiple future successes.

“I’m sure you’ll be successful,” Abigail replies, fitfully drinking her own meal. The clones took to a solid diet with varying levels of comfort, and for all her enthusiasm in other aspects of a free life, the shy woman didn’t enjoy the act of chewing. She always dutifully tried a small amount of whatever they were eating, on the off chance that she might discover something new she appreciates, but inevitably reverts to drinking meal shakes engineered from Prime’s amniotic fluid instead. If Kadroh looked especially sad, Abby would blend the menu with it into an unpleasant slurry, one of which she was drinking tonight. Glimmer gagged when she brought THAT to the table, and Catra’s no better. She can _smell_ the mess, even from here. 

“I thought former Horde leader Catra was going to help?” Glimmer teases in a not teasing way, between bites, a certain smugness coming through her tone. Bow brightens up and that, and gives Catra a pleading look. She raises a single eyebrow.

“No, Arrow Boy. You nerds had your chance.” she growls, going back to her food. Adora elbows her and she huffs, knowing that’s a command to be nice. But Glimmer started it, really, so Catra turns her attention to the Queen instead. “Apparently knowing 5 languages fluently isn’t quite enough for what they need,” she purrs, her tail flicking up, enjoying the childish pout on the monarch’s face. Take that, your majesty. Bow isn’t deterred, though.

“But you’re still the only person that we know who understands Melog! We could really use your help translating what they say,” he pleads, looking like a sad puppy. Catra rolls her eyes, ears tilting back and her cheeks heating up. That sort of garbage doesn’t work on her, but she still can’t look him in the face when he’s like this. 

_No,_ Melog grumbles from below the table. Catra sighs, running her toe claws along their spine. Poor guy. 

“Melog says no, so it’s no, Bow. So it… no, stop with that face, it won’t work,” she groans, as his expression only grows more pained. “Glimmer, tell your boyfriend to rein it in!” she says, turning to the queen.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you say something? I can’t speak 5 languages so I’m not sure…” Glimmer replies to her plate, taking a forkful of meat. Catra growls, her ears lowering further. Adora’s elbow shoots out again, and Catra turns, only to catch a blue-eyed glare. She pulls back the snarl and goes back to her own meal.

“Catra _was_ the best at our language classes,” Adora notes, tapping Catra’s foot with her own in thanks at her restraint. “So, uh, why aren’t you using her? Besides the obvious,” she adds. Glimmer blinks and looks between the pair.

“ _Language classes?_ ” she asks, clearly finding the image as incongruous as Bow did. 

“Because I pointed out Hordak probably knows all those languages himself. He probably _wrote_ half those classes,” Catra says, and Adora’s eyes widen in understanding after a moment. She nods, her expression thoughtful.

“Makes sense. He was always keeping tabs on everybody. Can’t do that if you don’t understand what we’re saying,” she notes, and Catra grins. At least someone understood her. Adora gets a far away look after a moment, her expression growing haunted as something clearly crosses her mind about that. Catra’s eyebrow arches.

“What, princess, you worried Hordak knew how bad your accent was in Beast-tongue?” she teases. Adora pokes at her meat.

“No… um.. I’m remembering how Rogelio used to like to swear at Imp when we were all kids to hear it repeat the words back at him.” 

Catra snorts, her eyes lighting up. Oh man, truly all things _did_ go to Hordak’s ears!

“Imp, what news do you bring me?” she growls in a passable imitation of their old leader.

“Hairy cloaca!” Adora chirps, and they both double over laughing as the rest of the group stare at them, baffled. Adora manages to pull herself together enough to pant out, “Really.. Really bad curse in Lizard-a, trust me. We spent months trying to learn how to say it, but only Lonnie could.” she explains. 

“Pretty sure she fucked up her throat for a week doing it too…” Catra notes. “Her voice was all raspy.” She sighs, grinning and leaning into Adora, tucking into her side naturally as her girlfriend’s arm drapes around her. Glimmer holds her stare at them for a second longer, before going back to her food.

“I’m never going to get used to how weird your childhood was,” she mutters, as if growing up in an actual palace wasn’t a thousand times more weird. Only a handful of kids on the planet did _that_ , tens of thousands grew up in the Horde and had their own Fright Zone stories. 

“OoOOOooooh, that might explain a few of the interactions I observed between Imp and Hordak in the past! I did notice he was frustrated, I mean Hordak was usually frustrated, but he was _especially_ frustrated when Imp would make these weird croaking sounds.” Entrapta says, looking up from her dinner with an expression of bright helpfulness. Catra tucks her face into Adora’s shoulder, unable to stop her laughter at the image of Rogelio, even into adulthood, stoic and kind, teaching Imp new vulgar words, unaware of the result….

* * *

Catra knocks on the lab door, ears flat, and Bow looks even more surprised when he opens it then he was yesterday. His expression immediately melts into one of gooey softness.

“Awww, I knew you’d come,” he says, stepping aside. She cringes, stomping in, tail slashing the air. 

“No, you didn’t,” Catra snaps, since it really wasn’t Bow who’d convinced her. Adora had been much more persuasive after supper, once they’d all retired to their quarters. Fingers carding through Catra’s fur, her voice gentle as she flattered her girlfriend’s cleverness and resourcefulness so blatantly that Catra laughed even as she purred. But the final piece was Adora reasonably pointing out that Bow and Entrapta only had a couple of days left to work on the software. 

“You’re the only one that can help,” Adora cooed, as Catra swatted at her ponytail before reaching to pull the long silken hair free of constraints. She even let Catra steal her elastic, shaking her hair out into a golden curtain. 

“Fine, but they owe me one,” Catra muttered. She shifted to encourage Adora’s fingers to move down her tummy, and then it was the blonde’s turn to laugh. 

“That’s my girl,” Adora murmured, her gaze tender with love, and that was that. 

Catra wouldn’t do _anything_ for Adora. That sort of talk was for the sappy romance books Bow left laying around and the poetry Scorpia would test out on her. It was provably wrong, given their past. There were a lot of things, in fact, Adora couldn’t get her to do. But Catra _would_ suffer through another round of nerds for those blue eyes. She'd put up with a boring afternoon of testing for that loving smile.

Entrapta peers up from her work, waving happily.

“You were right, Hordak _did_ have extensive language files! We’re already seeing so much progress with them to work from.” she calls from across the room. Bow nods, and adds, “And Mermista managed to get us a couple of works in Selkie and a dictionary.” Catra steps around the chair he pulls out for her and perches back up on a suitable table instead. Bow pushes it back in and quickly grabs his pad out of tail-swat range. 

“Let me guess, the latest Mermysteries?” Catra asks, grinning, and Bow’s expression is the only answer she needs. 

“I was hoping Melog would come back today,” Entrapta admits, frowning a little as she fidgets with her goggles. “This would be much more effective with both of you here.”

Melog was _not_ persuaded last night, by Adora or otherwise. They’d slept curled in a tight ball in the pair’s laundry and vanished before first bell. Catra suspects she knows where the alien is, but won’t push it. Melog already had days and days of this, and she can’t blame them for their patience finally wearing thin. They’d already lasted longer than she would have. 

“They needed a break. So it’s me or nothing, nerd girl,” Catra informs her, and Entrapta shrugs, her heavy gloved fingers flying across one of the many keyboards around the room.

“It’s fine, I can work with the data sets we have,” she says, and the holographic screens float before them once more. This time, it’s only the mountains visible. Bow taps a few things on his pad, and takes the seat he originally offered their visitor. 

“Right, I’m going to set this up, and I want you to just write out, on the pad, what each of the sounds are. That way you don’t go off of our expressions and second guess yourself and you can be as specific as you need.” Bow holds it out and Catra takes it from him, arching an eyebrow. 

“Clever,” she admits. “And you guys really don’t hear anything from what Melog says that you can recognize?” Catra knows it’s a futile question. Adora had spent weeks when they all first started living together trying to talk to Melog, first convincing herself she understood them before giving up when she realised she was just guessing. Still, with all the work they’d put into it, maybe they’d picked up patterns and words.

“It’s all just cat sounds to me,” Entrapta admits, and Bow goes red. He clears his throat and gives Catra a weak smile. 

“It’s… not easy to understand,” he settles on, and Catra nods. It’s not like what Melog sounds to everyone else was a mystery anymore, but it was still weird. Big cat, big cat noises, yet Catra could understand them perfectly. 

“Okay, you two, hit me.” she says, her finger at the ready. 

“Darla! Run test program 7-2:a,” Entrapta calls out to the ship, and the test begins.

At first, it’s easy. Yes, No, Up, Down, basic words like that. Names, shapes and colours as well. Catra starts to feel impatient, her legs swinging until she realises what she’s doing and crosses them. Her tail taps on the table. 

It carries on like this, just simple stuff, the sort of things that she got sick of fast in their earliest language lessons. Counting from one to ten, and then to twenty. Foods, and temperatures. No wonder Melog was so frustrated! This was the sort of stuff kids in the creche were taught, before they even matriculated out into squads. 

“Can we get to the actual, you know, phrases?” she growls, tapping out another simple answer to the patiently repeated Melog speech. Entrapta is staring at her screen, and nods. 

“We’ll skip ahead, then. So far, your answers have all been exactly in line with ours,” she confirms. “Darla, move the program forward to line 153.”

_ <<Affirmative>> _

Ears perked, Catra waits, listening, before lowering the pad onto her lap after the third sentence. If she could even call it that.

“Is this some kind of joke?” she snaps, her tail moving from a tap to a rapid staccato. “This is _baby talk_ , guys! No wonder Melog walked out, I would have too!” Bow glances at Entrapta, and then at her.

“Darla, pause test,” he says, and the phrases stop. Turning to face her a little more, he says, gently, “Catra, this is _me._ You know I’m not here to pull a prank on you.”

“And I assure you all the phrases we asked Melog to say were not infant level language,” Entrapta confirms, glancing between her screen and the two of them. Catra gestures, a vicious slash in the air, with the pad.

“But this is crap like ‘I sleep night good’ and ‘Five day up space go’ ”, she snarls out, “It barely even makes sense! Melog doesn’t talk like that!”

“We _know_ Melog doesn’t talk like that, Catra!” Bow snaps back, his own frustration rising to the surface for a moment, and that gives Catra pause. She stares at him, shocked out of her own annoyance, and he takes a deep breath, before starting again. “We _know_ how you understand them, Catra. And I don’t think you two are just lying to us, so we’re clearly missing something, because those are supposed to be ‘I slept very well last night’ and ‘We’ve been traveling in space since last week.’” His hands roughly scrub over his face, exhaustion leaking out into his actions and scent. Resting his head into them, he sighs.

“I just don’t get it. It can’t be body language because you can understand Melog even when you’re not looking at them. I watched, I _checked!_ It’s not sound, because this is exactly their sounds. Is it scent?” he asks, desperation cracking his voice to pieces.

“It could be scent,” Entrapta agrees, pulling up some files. Catra quickly shakes her head, cutting off that avenue. 

“Trust me, it’s not. Melog doesn’t smell like a regular animal or person,” she explains. “I don’t pick up anything off of them like I do with you two. And even if I did, scent doesn’t work like that. It’s like..” She waves her hand around, trying to think of how to explain it to people who only notice the most blatant stinks. It was like trying to teach music to people who could only sing one note. “It just makes things like people’s emotions way more obvious.” Entrapta taps a finger on her chin, before reaching for her recorder. 

“Note to self, look into a scent reader to aid in decoding friend’s emotions,” she speaks into it. 

“Must have been hard keeping secrets from your nose,” Bow says, giving her a warm smile. Catra nods, remembering how often that came in handy in the past. Beyond emotions, no one could ever hide from her, or trick her by swapping good ration bars with stale, and she always knew exactly who was dating who in the cadets. At that particular memory, Catra’s expression grows mischievous, ears tipping forward, a sly smile spreading over her lips.

“Still is, Arrow Boy.” she purrs, “Like, for example, what you were up to last night---” A soft hand clamps over her mouth as Bow stares at her, eyes wild, frantically shaking his head.

“Why, what was he up to last night?” Entrapta asks, her innocent curiosity only making Bow sputter more.

“Nothing!” Bow squeaks out, reminding Catra of nothing more than how he used to sound when they first met, all those years back. Young, nervous, eminently teasable. “Nothing. Just some really emotional … talking… with Glimmer. A lot. Of, you know. Talking.”

Entrapta nods, going back to her notes. Catra’s grin widens under Bow’s hand, and he gives her a sharp look, before slowly taking it away. “Not a word,” he hisses at her, and she merely smiles, smugly silent.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Entrapta says, swinging her chair over to another workstation. “I couldn’t hear any talking coming from your quarters, just the loud sex sounds, but my ears aren’t that sensitive. I blame all the explosions!” Bow goes from an embarrassed red to a horrified pale.

“Yep, I can smell a meaningful conversation _hours_ later,” Catra purrs, enjoying every second of this. 

“Fascinating!” Entrapta chirps, as Bow attempts to sink through his chair, into the floor, and hopefully out into the void of space. Catra has to admit, her purr deepening, moments like this made being helpful its own reward.

* * *

The tension and excitement in Darla was growing palpable. Everyone in the small crew handled it differently. Bow was pouring over their translation software, obsessed with making sure it was perfect. Melog’s language was a sticking point for him, but he seemed willing to let it go, at least in public. In private, he ranted to Glimmer. Not so private that Catra’s sensitive ears didn’t often pick it up, though.

Glimmer was strained, but reserved. The stress stank off of the Queen, only growing stronger as they approached their first planetary visit. No amount of teasing or cajoling could get her to spill why, though it _did_ lead to a spontaneous sparring match, a hair's-breadth away from dangerously serious. Adora finally had to break them up and the hot, angry tone she took with Catra almost led to a different, nastier sort of fight. 

Entrapta was… no different than normal. As far as Catra could tell, she was working on a dozen side projects as well as the translation module, and their spacesuits kept changing every time Catra walked past them, hanging on the wall. The last change gave her pause, as one of the larger suits now had a matching, useless pair of ears sticking from the helmet. She didn’t need to be told whose _that_ was. Abby had clearly put in a private request.

Abigail had also tried her hand at a spacewalk, the day after the first one, eagerly asking Catra to come with, along with mandatory Entrapta. Unlike her brother, though, she had to return as the lack of gravity… did things to the poor clone’s already particular digestive system. She was crestfallen when they quickly made it back onto the ship, both figuratively and literally, her dyed spiked hair pressed flat from the helmet.

“It doesn’t make any sense, Prime ensured all his clones would be able to handle a variety of worlds,” she sniffled, miserable over one of the lavatory holes in the head of the ship, her complexion still green. Catra could only rub her back and try to ignore the unpleasant acid stench.

Rupert had become, if anything, more keen on finding tasks after Catra’s attempt to bring him out of himself, and she had to admit, Darla was more shining and pristine than even the throne room back home. No visiting offworld dignitary could have wished for more.

Kadroh’s stress was less blatant than his clone siblings, but it’s not normal to constantly change your outfit every few hours, or fussing over getting a pancake recipe exactly correct. Honestly, it reminded Catra of Adora, but unlike Adora, she didn’t have any way to get through to the clone, so she let it be. 

Catra couldn’t let Adora be, though. Adora was hyper-vigilant, obsessed with going over and over her maps and plans, checking and rechecking her route, testing her ability to summon her sword. Every time Catra passed her on her circuits, Adora was repeating the motion, over and over, or murmuring something under her breath as she runs her finger along a map. 

“You need to let this go,” Catra growls as she changes for bed. They’ve timed the arrival for the morning, or rather, whatever morning there was in Darla, and the feline isn’t looking forward to Adora meeting whatever the people of the world are with bags under her eyes. Assuming she can wake up at all. “This is going to be like that test you fell asleep during.” 

Adora doesn’t even look up from her notes. “Except unlike a test, if we fuck this up, it could ruin intergalactic relations forever,” she says, her voice rough. Catra rolls her eyes.

“Worse than whatever Prime was up to for the last few thousand years?” Catra asks, exasperated. She strides over and snatches the papers from Adora’s hands, causing the woman to spin on her, eyes flashing. Hopping back, Catra flexes her claws, grinning as she threatens the notes. “Get your night clothes on, dummy, or else. We’re going to bed.” 

Adora glares, before groaning and yanking off her own clothing. “You’re one to talk. Are you even going to stay in bed the whole night?” she asks, voice muffled as she pulls her top off, arms tangling in it. Catra’s tail bristles, and she spins to smooth the fur down before Adora frees her head and can see. She turns and shoves the notes into a random drawer.

“Don’t know what you’re even talking about, princess,” she grumbles, “You’re always drooling on me and cuddling me in the morning, aren’t you?” It’s not enough of a lie, and she can hear Adora’s sigh, feel her warmth as she moves close. Arms wrap around Catra from behind, and she leans back. Adora’s head rests on her shoulder, but Catra doesn’t turn to look at her, staring at nothing on the wall instead. 

“I know you’re worried too, Catra.” 

Catra closes her eyes. Slowly, her tail snakes around one of Adora’s legs, grounding her in the moment. She can feel the twitch of her ears, the shiver of her skin under her fur, her body wanting to run, to move, even as she melts into Adora’s arms. 

The need to circle through the ship had only somewhat abated by her quick jaunts into space, the simple distractions of the stars a temporary reprieve. The stress, the panic, the anger and fear and rage of her last years in the Horde all blend together sometimes. It makes it hard for Catra to recognise, in this calmer life, when she falls back into an old habit, and why. But she does remember she did much the same thing before, circling the vast corridors of the Fright Zone, her brain coming up with a million justifications but her body needing to move.

Was it instinct? Or just some sort of weird tic she’d picked up over her strange life? Catra would never know. She forces herself to stay still now, to fight it. Because she _has_ been pacing each night, often with Melog at her heels, sometimes not. It was foolish of her to think Adora wouldn’t notice, but that was another old habit. The one that lied to herself. The one from the days when Catra was convinced that as long as she was back in her own bunk by morning, Adora wouldn’t notice her sneaking down to share her bed every night. 

There were so many things that could go wrong. This wasn’t simple, this wasn’t easy, as much as she tried to make it sound. Catra presses her cheek a little more tightly to Adora’s own. She was very worried. Darla stank of concern from every corner, and Catra knows a lot of it is her own. The hiss of their cabin door tickles her ear.

“Hey, Melog.” she whispers, feeling Adora turn to look as their friend enters. The alien let out a low, sorrowful mmrrow, and there was a soft creak as the shared bed took their weight. 

_I am struggling to rest. Even the trees are not helping, though Emily is being very accommodating and keeping her movements quiet._ Melog tells Catra, and she hears them shift, trying to get comfortable. Adora plants a kiss on one of her ears and slowly starts stepping back, herding the pair to the bed as well. Catra untangles herself from her girlfriend’s grip long enough to curl up around Melog, before peering over her shoulder. 

“C’mon, bed time,” she says. Adora just stands there, a soft look on her face, a hint of a smile on her lips. Catra gives her a lazy, arrogant yawn. “You look stupid,” she notes, tenderly. 

“Sucks that you love such a stupid looking person,” Adora counters, slipping in to spoon behind Catra. Her fingers stroke along Melog’s side, and the alien yawns, starting a deep, unnatural purr. Catra’s eyes squint shut.

“Tell me about it. It’s torture.” Adora laughs, and dims the lights. 

“I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep,” she admits, and Catra nods, burying her face in Melog’s mane.

 _I feel the same way. But I would rather be stuck awake with you both than alone._ They say, through a yawn that seems to rattle the bed with their maw finally snaps shut. Catra nods again, but she feels exhausted, right to her bones. She doubts it’ll stick, but she’ll just close her eyes for a moment.

* * *

“Time to wake up.” 

Catra groans, curling up on herself and tugging her blanket over her ears. She feels like she's barely fallen asleep, and doesn’t have any time for Adora’s bullshit. As the blanket is tugged from her grasp, she whines, curling over to kick out. 

“Fuck ooooff,” she growls, scrambling for a pillow to fling at her girlfriend, blindly tossing it. There’s a pathetic flump as it hits the deck instead. Adora’s snort-laugh tickles through her ear.

“Melog?” 

Catra yelps as the sheet is yanked from under her, dropping her on the floor. Hissing, she rubs her now-sore ass and glares sharply at a grinning Melog, their bedsheet still in their mouth. 

_It is morning, Catra, and I am extremely excited to see the new planet._ They inform her, their tail arched up, earspikes cocked forward. Catra slowly gets up, looking blearily around the room. Adora gives her a broad, goofy grin, already changed into her usual outfit. She even smells bathed. 

“Fuck, really?” Catra grumbles, with a yawn, stretching her back out with a pop and bending over. Everything flexes out as she works her body awake from claws to tail. “Did you get any sleep yourself, princess?”

“Mostly,” Adora said, “Except for all your snoring.” The dark bags under her eyes have shrunken down, so Catra has to assume Adora got a least a few hours in. Catra sticks her tongue out at the blonde as she stands and grabs a leg, tugging it up past her shoulder and admiring how Adora fails to hide her stare. Even when they were young, Catra was always much more flexible than her partner in crime, and Adora’s body has lost its limberness with her added strength. Satisfied, she goes to pick out her own clothes.

“You really wearing that?” she asks, her tail flicking a quick snap as she looks for something suitably diplomatic in her wardrobe. She doesn’t need to see the face Adora makes in return.

“It always works. I’m not about to change into a dress,” Adora says. “Or a suit. I’m fine like this.” Catra shakes out her own blouse, clicking her tongue.

“It’s an entire different world, you could be offending them,” she says, her voice a teasing lilt. “Maybe ugly Horde uniforms are a deadly taboo.” 

“Maybe it’ll be a planet of nudists and we’ll have to strip,” Adora counters. Catra barks out a laugh, shaking her head. She pins on a few of her decorations and checks her hair, smoothing it first, before fluffing it with her claws instead. Adora slips behind her, stealing a kiss on her cheek and looking at them in the mirror. 

“You look great,” the woman breathes, her gaze loving, and Catra feels her heart soften. She reaches for Adora’s hand.

“Biased,” she accuses. Melog grumbles softly from the doorway.

 _We do not have time for your mating rituals_ , they remind Catra, and Catra’s extremely grateful the earpiece Adora’s slipping in doesn’t translate Melog-ese yet. She puts her own in, hoping the program works well enough. Entrapta is perfectly confident and Bow is tentatively sure they can at least get the gist of a new language, but there’s no way to be certain until they use it. They’ve caught scraps of unencrypted transmissions since they left Etheria, but they’ve all been in the galactic standard they’re used to. Maybe they’ll never end up needing to test it at all. Perhaps Prime sucked out all the individuality from his subject planets, a dark mirror of the language policies of Hordak, overriding instead of absorbing.

“Ready?” Adora asks, squeezing her hand, and Catra nods. They follow Melog to the deck. Glimmer and Bow are already waiting for them, their own hands tightly clutched together. 

“Took a bit of work to keep Kadroh off the deck,” Glimmer says with no preamble as they move to step beside the pair. Kadroh struggled with understanding that who the clones are _now_ had no real bearing on how people would view them. Etheria had only a few months of clone invasion, so his bubbly personality won people over easily back home, but the universe at large had centuries of oppression to hate. Catra has long ago come to terms that it might take a generation or more before people stop caring about distinctions between Horde and Rebellion back home. She wonders if slipping out of living memory would be enough to soften the galaxy on the offspring of Prime.

Catra can feel Adora’s pulse through her palm, can hear her racing heart. Glimmer reaches out and takes Adora's other hand, and as a group, they all take a deep breath.

“You guys good?” the queen asks, and Adora bites her lip.

“Kinda terrified,” she admits, and they all let out a laugh that’s not really about humour. Melog presses tight to Catra’s side, and she reaches down to half-hug them to her, hand snug on their neck, deep in their nebulous mane. 

_Are we almost there?_ The alien asks, and Catra repeats the question. Adora’s body tightens, and her expression becomes all business, all commander. 

“Darla, what’s our time to arrival?”

_ <<We are in the system currently. We will arrive at the designated coordinates in seven minutes.>> _

“Any transmissions we can pick up?” Bow asks, as Glimmer squares her shoulders. 

_ <<Negative. No transmissions have been detected.>> _

They stand in silence, staring at the vast window of the deck, waiting, waiting for anything new. The star of the system is a tiny white point on the screen, and the whole system is engulfed in a beautiful cloud of gases, prismatic pastels that fill the view. Catra wonders if she’ll ever get over the majesty of outer space. After the flame-licked bloody skies of the Fright Zone, the infinite possibility of the true night never ceases to draw her gaze. She wonders if the others feel the same, as she can hear heartbeats slow and calmness entering the room. Catra feels a purr, and it takes a moment for her to realise it’s her own. 

_It is so beautiful._ Melog mews, and she mutely nods in agreement. 

_ <<We have arrived at the coordinates.>> _

Waking from their private reveries, the squad peer out of Darla’s forward windows, watching a few shattered rocks tumble past the glass. 

“Okay, Darla, bring nearer to the planet, please.” Adora says, her hand slipping away. 

_ <<There are no planets near these coordinates.>> _

Adora groans, and pulls up the map with a flick of her wrist, bringing it up and tracing the line of their path. 

“Ugh, I was worried about that,” she mutters, “We really got lucky with Krytis, and these maps are so old. Okay, move us to where the planets are in the system, Darla.”

_ <<There are no planets in this system. There is one asteroid belt in our current location.>> _

Adora looks at the map, dragging it out to show their route, and then at the others. Bow gives her a small shrug and Glimmer’s face is stuck in an expression of shock. Catra's purr stutters into silence, and her tail starts to twitch.

“The systems couldn’t have moved around that much in a few thousand years, could they?” Adora says, dragging the map, flipping it around. Sweat beads on her brow. Catra glances at Melog, but they merely tilt their head. They don’t know anything astronomical. “Darla, confirm that this is the location we predicted for the Geolon system.”

_ <<This is the predicted position for the planet Geolon. There are no planets currently in this system.>> _

Adora’s motions go from worried to panicked. Catra reaches for her, even as her own heart starts to race. “No. No no no _no_ **_no_ **,” Adora starts to chant, frantic. Glimmer’s eyes catch Catra’s, wide and frightened, and she grasps Adora’s shoulder first.

“It’s fine, it’s just one mistake. I’m sure we can figure it out.” Glimmer says, and Adora swats her hand away, moving to the console, pulling up file after file. Catra’s own reassurances dry in her throat as Melog pulls away from her and starts to pace. She swallows, and tries a weak smile.

“Yeah, Adora, we’ll just find the dumb planet. It’s not like it can walk away. We’re probably just, like, one system over.” Catra’s words don’t even sound convincing to her own ears. Adora turns, eyes wide with fury, and she slams her hand on the console.

“We’re not one system over, Catra, we’re _lost!_ We’re lost, and I have no idea where we should even go! All that planning and we might as well be flying _blind!”_

Catra’s eyes find themselves drawn once more to the vista before them. The beautiful clouds, the bright white star and the empty, empty place where a planet should be.


	16. Chapter 16

“Adora, wait!” Bow calls as Adora stomps out of the bridge, her teeth grinding so hard that Catra can  _ hear  _ it. The bridge door on Darla wasn’t made for slamming, and Bow is right on her heels, but Adora barks out “Darla, lock it!” as she strides past, and the hatch shuts in his face. 

Bow’s fist smacks on the metal and he snaps out, “Darla, unlock and open this right now!” 

_ <<Apologies, but I am currently under an administrator override.>> _

Melog whines, looking between them all. 

_ I am very concerned about her, _ they murmur.  _ Shall I follow? _ Catra sighs and shrugs. 

“No, leave her for now, she’s going to be in a huff for a bit. But maybe let Entrapta know  _ someone _ locked us in here in her hissy fit.” she grumbles, her claws flexing. Melog nods tersely, and fades out of sight. A sparkle of magic tingles her spine and Catra can tell Melog’s gone, through the door and away. Catra barely stops herself from shredding the fragile, silken blouse she’s wearing, moving instead to grip around her arm. Her fingers twitch, and she squeezes, suppressing the urge to claw. Bow groans and slumps against the door.

“Why is she always like this? I thought she had gotten better…” he mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Catra clicks her tongue in agreement of the Adora-ness of the moment. Frowning, Glimmer leans against the console. Glancing over her shoulder, she eyes the view with a certain suspicion, before huffing and looking away. She gives a tired little laugh.

“Guess I fixed my hair and got the tiara out for no reason.” she says, exhausting dripping from her words. Catra’s ear twitches and she looks between the pair, before running her still itchy claws through her cropped mane and shaking it out. 

It takes a frustratingly long time for the bridge door to finally open, the trio standing around in uncomfortable silence. When the hatch finally beeps brightly and hisses open, Melog bounds in to tackle Catra, yowling out apologies. 

_ I’m so sorry, it took a while to get Entrapta to listen, and then longer for her to follow me. _

“It’s fine,” Bow tells them, as Entrapta waves at them from the hall.

“Yeah, we know what she’s like,” Glimmer adds, going over to ruffle over the alien’s ears. Catra looks up, arching an eyebrow as she glances between the pair. 

“Good guessing,” she says, a flicker of suspicion in the back of her skull. Bow laughs, and Glimmer taps her earpiece. Catra frowns even as Melog perks up, cloudlike tail waving slowly.

_ Oh, did you finally perfect the translation program?  _ they ask Bow, voicing what Catra herself was wondering as well. Looking flustered, he shakes his head.

“Sorry, buddy, I didn’t.” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But I talked with Glimmer and we figured sometimes close is all we’re going to be able to get. So we’ll use what we have and if we don’t understand, we can get Catra to clarify, I guess.” Glimmer plants an affectionate smooch on Melog’s brow, eyes bright.

“It might not be perfect, but ‘Sorry long time Entrapta hear me follow’ is a hundred percent better than before. I’m just so happy we can hear you now!” Glimmer coos, cupping their cheeks. Melog squints and purrs in reply, looking delighted at the effusive affection from the queen. Catra rolls her eyes at the display and shifts out from underneath the heavy pseudocat, sitting up and making a show of dusting off her fancy clothes.

“Thanks, Entrapta!” Glimmer calls out as the princess enters the bridge, tapping something onto a pad.

“Oh, no problem! So, why are you guys stuck on the bridge anyway?” Entrapta asks, before immediately getting distracted by the vista beyond the bow windows. “Oooo! A nebula, and we’re right in the middle of it! Oh, I need to get Darla’s sensors on this right away!” she chirps, eyes bright.

“Wait, before you do that, can you help us check where we might have gone wrong with the routing, because this isn’t supposed to be a  _ nebula, _ it’s supposed to be our first _ planet. _ ” Bow quickly interrupts, gesturing to the map and heading off the princess before she can leave. Entrapta hops up on her hair and extends up, looking over the projection from all angles and doing the same motions Adora had, spinning the map and moving it around.

“No mistake, this IS where the planet should be.” she says, tilting her head. Catra groans.

“Let me guess, data doesn’t lie,” she grumbles, looking at the beautiful pink and purple clouds of gas that was distinctly not a planet. It was one thing not to trust your own eyes on Krytis when a talented alien was clouding them, but this was a bit much to swallow.

“Oh, well, normally no, but this data  _ was  _ extremely old, and from questionable sources.” Entrapta says, cycling through a few more of Darla’s screens. “There’s always the risk of transmission error after that much time. But there’s an easy solution to that!” 

Glimmer looks up from where she was showering affection on Melog, hope brimming in her expression. Catra feels a little more skeptical, though, and asks, “What  _ sort _ of easy solution?” 

“We just need an updated star chart.” Entrapta says, and Glimmer’s expression falls as quickly as it had brightened. Bow’s eye twitches. 

“Entrapta,” he says, a brittle patience choking his words, “We have no idea where to get a modern star chart. Otherwise we wouldn’t be using these ones.” Entrapta’s expression is puzzled, and she swipes her hand over the map, fingers dancing. Immediately, a dozen points light up in varying shades of brightness. Catra slowly stands, peering at the glistening map as if it would explain itself.

“We just need to go to one of these worlds,” Entrapta says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Catra raises an eyebrow. 

“And why these ones?” she asks, “Do we even know they’re still there?” The princess laughs, swinging around. 

“Sure we do, these are just the ones with the strongest transmission signals that I picked up in this sector. Our best bet for an active culture would be the noisiest one, so….. “ Entrapta zooms the map to the brightest point, “This one. Denebria!” 

Bow blinks, and slowly cracks a grin. “Of course! We’ve been picking up signals in the background all the time, but most of them are encrypted. Buuuuuut we don’t need to decode them to triangulate active worlds from the transmission traffic!” he says, clearly excited.

“Translation for the non-nerds?” Catra asks with a smirk.

“It means we follow the noise.” Entrapta says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Darla and I have a date to study the properties of a white dwarf!” 

“A what now?” Glimmer mutters, but Entrapta is already off and away in the vents. Catra shrugs, giving Melog a stroke along their back. Catra’s muscles relax as they exit the bridge and she can see the same happen for the others. Glimmer pulls off her tiara and rubs her forehead, sighing deeply, and Bow gives her a squeeze. Catra follows them to the crew quarters, and they’re only half surprised when her chamber door buzzes aggressively, telling them it was locked. She gives it a sharp knock.

“Adora, are you having a fucking PITY PARTY?” Catra calls through the door. 

“Go away.” The words are muffled through the thick hatch. Adora’s probably buried in their bed.

“It’s fine, we’ve got a way to get you some better charts,” Bow tries, and the groan is much more audible to the four of them. Glimmer mirrors it, looking as frustrated as Catra feels.

_ Shall I go in there? _ Melog asks Catra, ears perked. She shakes her head.

“No, let her stew for a bit.” Bow gives her a frown, but Glimmer nods along. Both of them have had to deal with Adora like this over their years together as well. Adora isn’t as bad as Catra is for the whole ‘run and hide from your problems’ thing, but when she crashes, she crashes hard. Maybe giving her space wasn’t ideal, but it would only be for a couple hours. Catra needs food in her before she deals with her perfectionist girlfriend’s hero complex. Self care or whatever. “We’ll talk to her after I get breakfast.”

“You haven’t had breakfast yet?” Glimmer asks, a smile twitching across her lips. She moves to ruffle Catra’s hair, making it even more messy than before. “And here I thought you just  _ looked  _ like you rolled out of bed, not that you actually had.” Catra sticks out her tongue.

“I’m not an early riser if there isn’t a gun to my head, your majesty, you know that. It’s still early.”

“It’s after ten,” Bow points out with a little smirk of his own. 

“See? Early. Practically dawn. Besides, we’ll bring Adora something to eat too.” Catra says, shoving Glimmer off of her as the queen attempted to ruffle her ears as well. Glimmer laughs, looking more relaxed than Catra had seen her be in days. Bow melts at the sight, eyes crinkling from how broad his smile grows, his gaze soppily loving. The tension unravels as they walk, the air easing as a thread of  _ something _ has finally snapped. The worst had happened, there was no planet, and there wasn’t anything, really, they could do about that at the moment. It was very freeing. 

“So, was Adora like this a lot when you two were growing up?” Bow asks, taking Glimmer’s hand and giving it a kiss as they make their way to the galley. Catra shrugs her shoulders.

“Only around me. She was always high strung but she kinda felt like she had to hide failing from everyone else, or even worrying about failing, you know? Perfect front.” Catra gives a grim chuckle. “But I’d catch her like this, in our bunks, or in our special hiding spots. Just… wiped out, in her own head.”

“Yeah…” Glimmer murmurs, looking at nothing in particular. “How.. did you deal with it?” Catra plucks at her clothes for a moment.

“Depends on what it was, and how I felt. Sometimes I’d just hype her up, make her feel better. Or I’d goof off until she started laughing. Sometimes I’d get pissed off, start arguing because she’d be upset or worried about something I didn’t think she had any right to be. Like she’d get one question wrong on a test but I got five, yet SHE’S the one crying to ME. It wasn’t.. It wasn’t fair to either of us, really, but I’m still mad when she gets like that, like now. At least now, I know I need to walk away for a bit before I can help her.” Bow’s brow creases, confused.

“I think she has every reason to be upset now, Catra.” he says, his voice frustratingly reasonable. Catra hisses through her teeth and closes her eyes. 

“Sure, but she’s making it about her  _ again,  _ Bow. Fuck, people act like _ I’m _ selfish but Adora can be just as bad. Why are we even out here to find that planet, huh?” Catra doesn’t give them a chance to answer, before gesturing to Melog. “Was she worried about how hurt Melog might be, or how stressed you were, or I was, or Glimmer was? I mean, maybe, but she turned that into this big THING about punishing herself!” The other two look to Melog as well, understanding dawning on their faces.

“Are.. you okay, Melog?” Glimmer asks, her voice soft, meek with embarrassment. Melog lowers their head.

_ I am… disappointed. And worried. But I’m not upset, yet. I will feel different if every planet we attempt to visit is missing.  _ Catra gives them a ruffle through their mane, and glances to the other two to see if they need her translation, but Glimmer is already kneeling to give Melog a warm hug, and Bow is looking soft as usual. She goes to sort through the dehydrated meals, unwilling to make anything right now. 

“Well, it’s not like planets can just go missing, so once we get the new maps, we should be good,” Bow says. Catra nods, pulling out several fish-based choices, before looking for something sweet to bring Adora. Suddenly, Glimmer gives a short, sharp laugh.

“I mean, they _can_ if Horde Prime was actually telling the truth. He really liked bragging about having these last trophies of worlds that no longer exist. But I’m betting he was just a dramatic asshole.” she says, grinning at them. Catra feels a chill up her spine, flashes of memories throwing up images before her eyes. Cubes slip through her grasp, clattering onto the prep counter. Ships in space, ringing a world that’s not shaped right, missing pieces, lights flashing, flashing...

“He.. he wasn’t lying about that,” Catra says, her voice sounding choked. She’s suddenly surrounded by warmth, a woodsy scent, rich and easy, and she knows Bow is holding her, but why? Looking down at his arms, she sees her hands shaking. When did  _ that _ happen? She tries to tell him that she’s fine, push him away, but her body isn’t listening. His grip tightens, and now there’s the sharp scent of perfume and stress and warmth and Glimmer is holding her too. She presses her face to Glimmer’s shoulder, and it’s wet for some reason. After a moment, Catra realises her cheeks are soaked with tears. She doesn't remember crying. She's still crying.

“I’m so so sorry for bringing him up…” Glimmer says, soft and far too gentle, and Catra shakes her head. She takes a couple of deep breaths, but doesn’t pull back. A few more, and she can find her voice.

“It’s fine. Just hit me weird. Memories.” Of all of them, all the people he chipped, Catra seemed to have been linked the deepest to him. The others didn’t see things like she did. Perhaps Prime learned from her on how to do it without giving too much of himself. He also hadn’t needed the… the bath, for the others. They perfected the operation to the point people could be chipped and walk back out before their friends would even notice it. Catra had been the learning curve on that. Lucky her.

“Food,” she mutters, still deep against the crook of Glimmer’s neck. The pressure of Bow against her back vanishes and she’s being steered to another room, blindly following Glimmer’s movements. They end up seated, not in the mess hall, but the arboretum. Slowly, Catra calms down, letting herself think on the memories without them overpowering her. By the time Bow returns with piles of reconstituted fish sticks and extra sauce, she’s ready to talk. 

“Glimmer’s on to something,” Catra admits, after she devours two of the flakey delicious things. “I.. I don’t remember specifics, but Horde Prime was absolutely capable of cracking open a world. I’m pretty sure he only did that pretty recently? I mean, not… not like recently to us, but for him. He wasn’t able to when he was fighting the First Ones, I think.” She sighs and eats some more. “But we already know that planet was around when they were, so that doesn’t make any difference.”

“And you can’t remember the names of any worlds he did that to?” Bow asks, but Catra quickly shakes her head.

“No, I just.. I really only got things that were on his mind when I was linked to him. There was so much past in there, mixed with memories and thoughts and feelings. But I can’t just call it up. It’s like trying to remember a dream.”

“A nightmare,” Glimmer corrects, her voice grim. Catra gives her a quick, fanged smile that has no humour to it.

“I don’t even know if a regular brain could follow all that hive-mind stuff,” she admits. 

“What hive-mind stuff?” comes a shy voice, and they startle. They all look around and Catra spots Abigail, sitting with Emily, her face flushed. She gives them a half wave. 

“How long have you been there?” Glimmer asks, shocked, and the blush only deepens.

“Um, I’ve been here all morning? Catra was very upset when you came in so I didn’t, um, want to bug you.” the clone admits. “And I wasn’t intentionally listening! That’s uncool!” Catra can’t help a little smile at that choice of wording.

“It’s fine.” she says, and she pats the ground beside her. Abby brightens up at that, and bum-shifts a little closer to the group resting among the trees. They make space for her, and Melog moves to rest their head against the tall woman’s thigh. “Did the planet you were speaking to have some issue with Prime? I mean, more than usual,” she asks, and Glimmer groans.

“The planet we were supposed to visit isn’t there anymore. Or maybe it never was. We’re trying to figure out what happened.” the queen explains, and Abigail’s earfins droop a little. Catra sits up, and looks to the clone with a broad smile as something strikes her. Abby returns the smile, uncertain.

“ _ I _ can’t handle the hive memory stuff, but you guys should remember it! I know Kadroh was able to remember Krytis was a thing he wasn’t supposed to remember, so maybe _you_ can remember something about Geolon!” Catra says, excited, but Abigail's expression grows haunted, and she shifts uncomfortably where she sits. Glimmer gives the clone a light nudge with an elbow.

“C’mon, without Prime around there’s no reason not to talk about places, right?” she cajoles. The clone shakes her head.

“It’s.. it’s not that. Brother Catra is right, we do remember so much. Not as much as Prime himself did, our deep past is lost to us. Hidden, I guess. But um… a lot of us have been… taking advantage of freedom to let ourselves forget. It takes work to remember and we.. we don’t want to. I’m so sorry!” The last words tumble out, hot and ashamed, and Abby ducks her head down. Catra reaches out, and gives one of the clone’s pale hands a squeeze. Melog nuzzles her leg, mewing gently. 

“Hey… hey, believe me, I get it.” Catra says, her voice soft, careful. “It’s okay, it’s good. I just want to forget most of that stuff too, and I barely know any of it.” Abigail’s eyes glisten, on the edge of tears, and she nods slowly. 

“Sorry, I know I’m part of your team, I didn’t want to let you down,” the clone says, and Catra holds up her hand, palm out. Abby gives her a tremulous smile, and slaps palm to palm in a high five. Catra can feel Arrow Boy wanting to say how adorable that was, and she commends him his restraint so she doesn’t have to murder him.

“You didn’t let me down. Do you think any of your brothers might be able to help us?” Catra asks, though she doesn’t hope for much. Why would anyone want to remember when they could forget? Abigail nods her head at something past them, gesturing with a quick jerk of her chin.

“Rupert might,” she suggests, and Glimmer whips around, stumbling back as she sees the magenta-tinted clone standing right behind her, watching the group silently. 

“Oh come on! How are you guys so huge but so quiet? How long have YOU been there!?” she asks, cheeks red. Rupert frowns slightly and gestures to his mop.

“I have just arrived. I was following a trailing mess on the floor.” he notes, his tone clipped. Bow looks down at the food he brought and sees one of the sauces tipped and dripping down the edge of the tray. The damp mopped path out into the hall shows it wasn’t a recent spill.

“Oh, man, sorry big guy… I can clean that up,” Bow sputters, but Rupert shakes his head.

“It’s already cleaned. Just be careful in the future, Brother Bow.” he says. Catra holds up a fish stick for him, which he accepts, still holding the mop. “Is there a task you need me for?” he asks, taking very careful small bites of the food between words. Glimmer laughs, rolling her eyes at the question they’re all too familiar with.

“You  _ really _ don’t need to keep doing stuff for us, Rupert.” she says, and the clone’s expression stiffens in mild annoyance. Catra smirks to herself. Better minds than Glimmer have tried to get him to relax.

“I might not, but if Abigail’s words were correct, she believes this  _ is  _ something I can help with. So please have the decency to at least ask me,” Rupert says, his voice unusually sharp. Bow helps himself to a fish stick, scooping the last of the escaping sauce up with it. 

“Do you remember much from your time with Horde Prime?” he asks, and the clone nods. Carefully sitting down with them, his legs fold neatly under him so he sits on his calves. Catra wonders how comfortable that could possibly be, but it’s no skin off her back if he pinches a nerve.

“Yes. I remember everything.”

They all stare, and Bow sputters out, “ _ Everything? _ Uh.. that’s.. That’s a lot. You mean everything from when you came aware, right?” 

“Yes, and everything before then. Everything that I had access to remember as part of the hivemind, at least, from the first great war onwards.  _ Some  _ clones do not think this is a healthy thing to do,” he says, giving Abigail a sharp look. Catra expects her to shrink back in shyness, but she just gives him an equally determined glare back. Clearly this has been a source of friction between the two. “But I feel it is important to remember everything to better accept my past.”

“We were not even responsible for so much of what happened. We were not even  _ alive _ for most of it! I don’t see how remembering the ancient past is healthy!” Abigail snaps back with a startling ferocity, looking for the first time as hard as her clothing choices. Rupert scowls, and gestures at her with a pointed finger.

“We each are our own people, _ you _ say that frequently. So respect that this is how I wish to confront our history. Just because I do not wish to change in the direction you do, or Kadroh does, does not make me some sort of revenant of the past. More things happened than what happened right after we decanted, Abigail, and it does no one any good to pretend they did not!” Abigail frowns, but doesn’t reply, instead pointedly looking out the window. Rupert sighs, and straightens a single errant hair on his crest. He turns his attention back to the circle.

“What do you wish to ask? I cannot guarantee I will know what you speak of, but I’ll make an attempt.” The group was frozen. This was the first time any of them had seen conflict of this sort between the Dryl clones, and Catra for one wasn’t sure how to react.

“Um, do you know a planet named Geolon?” Glimmer asks, her gaze flitting between Rupert and Abigail. Rupert frowns, and closes his eyes. They wait in silence, the only sound Melog’s chewing as they steal from the forgotten plate of fish sticks. It drags out, and Catra finally sighs.

“Listen, it was a long shot, so don’t…” she starts, but the clone holds up a hand.

“I do.. Please, be quiet, I am trying to recall it as best I can. It is very far in the past. You are fortunate that I remember it by that name. Most of the planets we conquered, I only know by the designation Prime gave them.” Catra closes her mouth, nodding. She remembers Abby saying something to that effect as well. 

Bow is not so astute. “But Kadroh remembered Krytis by name?” he says, and Rupert opens his eyes, frustration suffusing his normally bland expression.

“Yes, because Prime remembered important worlds by name. Most weren’t… significant to him. Or his memories. His invasion would be the most important event of their lives, but for him, it was merely a day like any other. Now _ please _ , Brother Bow.” Bow makes a zipping motion across his lips, and they wait once more. Finally, Rupert takes a deep breath. He selects another fish stick, consuming it with a tidy efficiency, and nods.

“Very well. I shall do my best. Please remember, it is a very old memory.” he says, before beginning.

* * *

Prime is furious. While he managed to stop the flight of Eternians from Krytis, their meager skiffs and transports designed to haul goods no match for his armada, he had not been prepared for the weapon. His mind goes back to multiple screens of the burning ember of a world, captured by careful drones entering the system. The power of it had scrubbed the faces of the inner worlds, cracked the moons of Krytis and destroyed a tactically significant amount of his fleet. He’d never seen anything like it. The power to do that was beyond anything he and his people, or their enemies, had ever harnessed. He almost regretted losing Krytis so fully only for the fact that he had no idea how that primitive world, already under the heel of the Eternians, could have done it. Unless the Eternians themselves made the weapon. He wouldn’t put it past them. 

He has learned one thing, though. Mercy was a weakness he must cease showing. Those who weren’t completely in his fold, under his loving direction, were no better than his enemies. And this world would be a perfect example to make.

Today, he is not looking upon Krytis, his great failure. Instead, Geolon hangs in the sky, lit by a star much more vast than what was typical for a populated world. Its people were unique to have grown there, but not so unique that their red giant of a sun didn’t worry them. Prime is well outside of the system, viewing this all on his fan of screens, but he has many angles to observe it from. After all, his ships littered the space around the world, and around its old, dying star, fat and ruddy.

“Open a transmission channel,” he snaps at one of his children, and the clone nods, quickly doing so. It only takes a moment for the hail to be accepted. These people were eager and waiting for his word. A broad, stoic faced woman flickers into view on his main screen.

“Gravelle.” he says. The woman's face barely changes, but he believes he sees excitement in her eyes. The people of Geolon had rugged bodies based on silica rather than carbon, and it made them far less expressive and supple than most other beings. At a different time he would have appreciated discovering more about this. How unfortunate for them both that this was no longer the case. 

“Horde Prime! I thank you so for contacting us once again. I hope you have given my request due consideration?” the mouthpiece for the Geolonian people asks him, and he allows a small smile to cross his lips. 

“You ask so much of us, when you allied with our enemies, Gravelle,” he says, letting his disappointment in that suffuse his words. Gravelle’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly.

“I understand how this was seen by you, Horde Prime, but we are a people of peace. We were not allies of them, we merely allowed them to peacefully conduct trade. As we did with your people. We had no desire to fight for you  _ or _ the Eternians, though we respect your commitment to bring peace to other worlds.” Prime inclines his head. 

“Of course you do. You are a peace loving world, and as such, should have been under my purview long ago. Yet even understanding my desire for peace, you allowed Eternians the same rights as my own clones on your planet, instead of baring their war mongering race from it.”

“We did not see any need for conflict,” Gravelle says, her voice soft and puzzled. “We fought for neither, as is our way, and as long as they did not fight on our world, they were accepted here. And.. we could not fully understand your words of peace, Horde Prime, when you were at war.” Prime curls his lip. Ignorant fools, as if there was any other way to gain peace. The people of Geolon were nearly indestructible, or else this would have been a much shorter debate. It was probably the only thing that allowed them to keep this ridiculous pacifist attitude for so long. Any other race holding such views would long be extinct. 

“But as you see, the Eternians have left you to your fate, and I come once again.” Prime says, gesturing broadly, his expression turning benevolent. Gravelle nods.

“Yes. We are glad for your aid in evacuating our world. We are more than willing to work as would be necessary to pay for such a thing, and my people have many skills.”

“Yes, you have offered the same in the past. But your people weren’t willing to be soldiers. A shame, as your place in my empire would be much more secure if that was the case.”

“You cannot ask us this,” Gravelle says, her voice firm. “But we offer anything else.” Prime nods, slowly, before smiling.

“Fear not, little sister. For Prime knows all, and sees all. He can see the perfect use for your people in my grand empire, and none of them will have to lift a single weapon. You should be honoured.” Gravelle smiles, a barely visible adjustment on the crease of her face. 

“Thank you, Lord Prime. We are indeed very honoured. I was quite hopeful when I saw the many ships you sent us. We can’t say for certain when Manik will reach its final stage of life, but our astronomers are very concerned.”

Horde Prime’s smile widens at that.

“Indeed, which is why we are here to help. I am quite curious to see what it might take to make a star explode myself. It is so fortunate that yours is so close to death already.”

There is a long silence from the woman, before she finally breathes out, “I .. am not sure I understand.”

Prime’s eyes narrow. “It is ever so fortunate that you have come into my sight at this time. Your planet’s loss will bring so much knowledge to my empire, and help bring us into a brave, new future where we need not suffer such indignities by our enemies or those worlds that wish to harbour them.”

Now Gravelle sounds worried. “But.. we no longer harbour them. We wish to join your empire. The ships…”

“Are there to ensure no one leaves until this experiment is finished. In life you and your people were as pointless as the rocks you stand on, so be heartened that in death, your pitiful existence will finally have purpose.” 

He’d never seen Gravelle show so much emotion, her face now like a carved mask of agony. “Please, I beg you, we do not deserve this…!” Disgusting. “You.. you say that you have room to accept everyone who comes to your light! We.. we will!” 

Horde Prime nods, and steeples his fingers. “And you will fight for me?” he asks. Let it not be said he is unreasonable. Even now, he’s willing to allow the foolish to avoid their own destruction, as long as they admit their folly. 

“We can’t…” Gravelle breathes out.

A sneer curls his lip. “Then you will live under my light forever in my memory as a _ very valuable example. _ ” He gestures, and the feed is cut. He watches the world on his screen.

“Are any ships attempting to leave?” he asks. 

“No, Lord Prime.”

“See that they don’t. Inform the brothers circling Malik to begin firing into the star.”

The clone nods, and forwards his orders. He watches the screen, impassive, wondering how long it would take. It might take hours, or centuries. Perhaps Malik would go nova without their aid. Either way, his clones will wait until the bitter end.

None will survive, of course, but it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. Unlike Gravelle, he knows how to make hard choices.

* * *

As Rupert finishes his story, a stunned silence falls over the group. A half-eaten fish stick hovers halfway to Bow’s mouth, forgotten, and Glimmer’s mouth hangs open. Abigail has tucked her long legs up and is hugging them, dealing with her own thoughts. Melog and Catra are tangled together, taking comfort in closeness. Melog is the first to speak.

**_Krytis_ ** _ is why he decided to break this world? _ they ask, their voice pained. Catra’s arms tighten around the alien. Catra remembers, after a long moment, that the clones don’t have earpieces in yet, so relays the words. 

“It was an idea I suspect Prime would have had eventually, but yes,” Rupert confirms, his voice soft. “I am sorry that you are part of this memory, Melog. I would not have shared it had I known.”

“Hey, I was part, too,” Abby says, her voice strained.

“It is not the same for us, Abigail, and you know it. But thank you for your patience in listening to this, all the same.” Rupert says. Abigail shrugs, resting her chin down on her knees once more. Melog’s tail slashes back and forth, and a blush of red enters their mane.

_ I am very glad Horde Prime no longer exists. This… this makes me feel very upset, that he wanted to use the example of my world’s death to bring more death.  _ Melog grumbles, and Catra kisses between their ears, before scratching behind one. 

“Couldn’t agree more, buddy,” she murmurs. Catra can’t blame Abigail for wanting to forget all this. Catra wants to forget her own ugly past, and _ she _ was responsible for those deaths, those hardships. Remembering countless worlds upon worlds that other people killed centuries before you were even born must be torture. She wonders how Rupert can stand it all. 

The group remain lost in a reverent memorial silence to the dead world. Suddenly, a loud clang startles them out of it, making Catra jump and Glimmer squeal in fright. Entrapta drops down into their circle, grinning broadly. 

“Guess what! This system IS the Geolon system!” she says, eyes bright, before catching everyone’s expression. “I… you all look unhappy, I think?” she asks, looking around the group. “Emily, do they look unhappy?” 

_ Bweep! _

“Yeah, Emily says you guys are unhappy. Is it because Geolon is missing?” Entrapta asks, sitting akimbo with them. 

Bow sighs. “No. I mean, yes, but not that it’s missing. It was destroyed.” he explains. Entrapta shrugs.

“Well, yes, obviously it was destroyed, that’s what I was coming to tell you guys!” she chirps. Glimmer groans softly.

“We’re  _ unhappy _ because Prime blew up a fucking star to destroy it for no good reason and killed everyone there!” she snaps. 

Entrapta’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “He did?! That’s really impressive… and.. and sad, sad of course. _ How did he do it? _ ” she asks, trying and failing to suppress her excitement. Rupert clears his throat.

“He… ah… fired energy weapons into the star until it went nova. It.. it took several months until he was successful, and he did not repeat the experiment, from what I remember.” he informs her, shamefaced, his earfins low. Extrapta waves a dismissive hand. 

“Oh, well then, no, he didn’t,” she says firmly. “It’ll only go nova if you give it more mass, not more energy. For a ten thousand year old science genius, he was pretty stupid. Ha!” And with that, she’s back off into the vents, tugging the hatch closed behind her. Catra realises her own jaw is hanging open, and she closes her mouth with a snap. She wants to call after Entrapta, ask her how she even knew any of this, but the scientist is long gone.

“I had her doing that to me for over a year and I never got used to it,” Catra mutters to herself, and that seems to break the dour spell over the room. Bow and Glimmer snort with laughter, and even Rupert gives her a small smile. Abigail untangles herself a little, a hand dropping to pet along Melog’s haunch. 

“Maybe our memories aren’t everything,” Rupert admits. “We can only know what Prime thought he knew.” Abigail nods, scritching Melog’s spine.

“Prime didn’t know as much as he thought he did, did he,” she says to no one in particular, but Catra is sure that they all agree.

* * *

“Hey, Adora. You ready to open up?” Catra calls out. There’s a shuffling sound, and a small bleep. The door to their room opens to show Adora faceplanting back onto their shared bed, now a mess of blankets and pillows. Catra’s almost impressed at the way she just drops. Slipping in, she sniffs. The room stinks of sadness and lack of sleep and stress, but it’s older now. Adora’s calmed down enough to talk.

“Sit up, dumbass, I brought you some sugar so you stop being a big sad baby about Geolon,” she says, sitting on the bed. Adora grumbles into the pillows. “What was that?” Catra asks with a smirk, even though she’s pretty sure she heard the first time.

Adora sits up, her neat hair a mess, half out of her tie, her eyes puffy and red and her skin sallow. “I said, you’re a jerk,” she repeats, before seeing the plate of miniature cupcakes Catra has. Adora lunges for the sweets, and Catra’s smile widens, leaning back to hold them just out of reach.

“Nuh-uh, say I’m not a jerk but in fact the best girlfriend,” Catra demands, and Adora rolls her eyes before smiling herself. Jackpot!

“You’re a complete jerk but you also brought me dessert so whatever lie you need to hear,” Adora says, trying to deke around and make another grab for them. Laughing, Catra hands the plate over without further ado. Adora shoves three of the little cakes in her mouth at once, looking triumphantly dorky.

“Mmmfd Prrfmum…” she starts to say, and Catra winces.

“Fuck, swallow that first, you dork, then talk.” Catra growls, blocking the spray of crumbs. Adora makes a show of chewing and swallowing, and then starts again.

“Would Perfuma appreciate you calling your very sad girlfriend a dumbass baby?” Adora asks, before eating two more. “Befff..”

“Eat or talk,” Catra replies with a laugh, “And no, but Perfuma isn’t here, and you were being a dumb baby. I know it’s hard when things don’t go according to plan, but that happens a lot. It’s  _ always _ going to happen. My plans fucked up regularly.”

“All the time,” Adora agrees.

“ _ Shut up _ . Point is, it sucks, but you can’t take it out on the rest of us and you know it.” Adora nods along as she listens, reaching for some water. There’s always a couple of glasses scattered around the room, brought in and inevitably forgotten by Adora. She takes a deep drink, and Catra watches her expression as she sorts through what she wants to say.

“Sorry, you’re right. I know you’re right. And I _ am _ sorry. It… it’s just a lot to fuck up an entire planet location. You’re all counting on me and…” Adora starts rambling, and Catra holds up a finger.

“Nope, stop. This is a team effort, Adora. It’s not the She-Ra show here, and we’re counting on each other. _ And  _ you overreacted. You were more upset than  _ Melog _ , and they were expecting to meet some of their people today.” Adora’s skin pales even more.

“Are they okay? Fuck, this is what I mean, I’m always screwing up,” she whines, and Catra fights to not snap at her. Thank goodness she thought of eating first, the slight grogginess she gets from a rich meal is slowing her reactions down. Keeping her worst instincts from flaring before she has time to consider them.

“Adora, no. Listen, it wasn’t even a mistake. Geolon should have been there, it just got destroyed after the books we used were written.” No need to fill Adora in on exactly how. In this mindset, she might blame herself for that, somehow, too. Catra carries on, “Besides, even if it  _ was _ , beating yourself up over it doesn’t help anyone.” Catra can see Adora isn’t really listening, so tries another tack. “You wouldn’t like it if I was saying this shit about myself, would you?” 

Adora gives her a sidelong glare, before sullenly answering “..no.” 

Catra grins. “So give yourself a break. It’s a long trip, Adora. I don’t need you dying from your first mistake, there’s  _ so _ many more you can make.” Adora gives her a blank look.

“I take it back, you’re not a jerk, you’re an asshole.” she says, but there’s a hint of a smile that she can’t quite hide. Catra takes one of the cupcakes for herself. It’s too sweet, and too sticky, and too crumbly. She can see why Adora loves them.

“Probably.” she agrees. “You ready to stop feeling sorry for yourself and hear the good news?”

Adora rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. Sorry for… just sorry. What’s the good news?”

“Good news is,  _ because  _ this is a team effort, Bow and Entrapta have a way for us to find an active planet and maybe get some updated intel from them. New maps, history that isn’t five thousand years out of date, stuff like that.” Adora eats a few more of the tiny sugar bombs, letting that sink in. Determination suffuses her body for a moment, before it droops again. Her energy was still drained from earlier, and it would take more than mini cupcakes to bring her back this fast. Still, Adora looks hopeful instead of morose. Catra takes that as a win.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan.” Adora gives her a smile, before another thought wipes it away. She drops back onto the bed with a heavy thud. “Uuugh, I can’t  _ believe _ I locked you guys in the bridge. I’m an asshole dating an asshole” she groans, burying her face in her hands. Catra snorts. She swipes her tail over Adora’s hands until the woman is tempted into make a grab for it, before smacking Adora’s nose with the tip. Blue eyes meet hers, silently apologetic.

“Entrapta let us out, but I could have used the vents, so whatever, princess,” Catra tells her, making it sound a lot less frustrating than it had been in the moment. Thinking back on that, she adds, “Sorry I didn’t come after you right away, I was just.. It was a lot. I was pissed, and I needed to eat something first.”

“Ah, that explains the belly,” Adora teases back, poking the tiny post food paunch. Catra swats her hand away, hissing. 

“Fine, fine, no need to swear,” Adora replies with a grin. Letting out a soft, tired sigh, she rubs over her already sore looking eyes. “Can I stay in here a little longer before I apologize to everyone else?” Adora’s voice is soft and uncertain, her gaze on Catra. Nodding, Catra gets up.

“Yeah, they’ll be fine. No one’s mad. I’ll even get you some more water and something for your face so it’s less ugly.” Catra says, warmth blooming in her chest. A cold compress and maybe even another dessert or two, she thinks to herself. Adora’d like that. Adora’s smile quirks into something sly as she watches Catra hover by the door.

“Is this that mating ritual Melog was talking about?” she teases. Catra freezes, her tail fluffing out, her eyes staring at nothing as she works that one out, before remembering this morning. This morning  _ after _ Adora put her earpiece in...

“Fucking translation program,” she groans, slapping a palm over her face.This was going to make censoring the embarrassing things the alien said to her so much more difficult. Behind her, Adora laughs and laughs. 


	17. Chapter 17

It was no secret that Etheria was a bit.. rural compared to the rest of the galaxy. Sure, there’d certainly be some planets like home, full of simple kingdoms and peoples, but Catra grew up in the Horde, surrounded by technology and growth. Even in her short life she’d seen the Fright Zone expand upwards and outwards. Not every planet was going to look like Plumeria or Thaymor, especially after some time under the oh-so-benevolent rule of Prime. Catra was no rube, and was fully prepared for towers and vast road networks and hoverskiffs and the like. But she wasn’t prepared for the scale of Gorn.

Entrapta had picked the most populous region of Denebria for them to focus their work, but it wasn’t like any city Catra’d ever seen. Its buildings tumbled down the sides of the incredibly tall mountains that surrounded the city, spilling into the valleys between them. Catra’s eyes ached as she tried to count just how many stories up the houses and apartments ran, clinging precariously and making the whole thing resemble some sort of hive. She finally gave up when she was past four hundred and was honestly guessing. Even the flatland city, with entire districts lost in twilight as newer ones were built over them, took her breath away. It was like the bazaars in the Crimson Wastes on steroids, and if they had full access to the technological advances of the universe. 

Adora’s fingers are twined through hers, and she’s not sure when that happened, but Catra gives the expectant hand a squeeze. Adora’s head is thrown back, no doubt doing the same trick as Catra, squinting in the morning light through the smog. 

“Over four hundred stories up, at least. Do you think that’s what the Fright Zone would have looked like if Hordak had a few thousand years?” Adora asks, and Catra shrugs.

“Probably, but watch it on using the H word..” she hisses, glancing around. Luckily, the din of the busy marketplace covered Adora’s flub. Piercing the centre of the massive city and rivaling the height of some of the mountains was a Horde spire, its whiteness the only clean looking thing in the grimy mess of life surrounding it. Graffiti is scrawled up a few dozen feet, a remnant of the end of the occupation. The lettering isn’t always familiar, but the sentiment is clear: fuck the Horde and fuck its people. 

The clones were not thrilled to have to stay on the ship, but after a rather heated argument with both Abby AND Kadroh, Rupert agreed to watch them both for their own safety, at least until the non-clones got a lay of the land to see if the planet was safe for them to show their faces. The answer, sadly, seemed to be ‘no’. Catra has been scanning the people around them since they arrived, and hadn’t spotted a single familiar pale face. No quarter for the enemy, not in Gorn. 

Glimmer’s hand lifts up to tap her earpiece. “Rupert?” she says, as they walk down into the city proper. Entrapta has been worried about interference and transmission traffic, so it’s reassuring when his calm voice pops up. 

“Yes, Sister Glimmer?”

“Looks like any visits for your siblings are off, these people are not friendly.” They all wince as Kadroh’s dramatic sob cuts through the line, and Catra reaches up to turn down her own earpiece. 

“I presume you mean for us? Or should I plan for an energetic arrival…?” Rupert asks, over the polite muffling of his sorrowful brother. Glimmer smiles.

“They seem fine for us, but we’ll let you know. Thanks…” she says, cutting the channel. The bustling metropolis had one thing that didn’t resemble the Fright Zone or Bright Moon or anywhere else they’d been so far: literally no one seemed to care for a second about a bunch of random strangers in odd clothes walking around. There were simply too many people to care. Besides a muttered ‘tourists’, spat out like a curse when Adora backed into someone while trying to look at the Prime spire, and a few sidelong glances at Catra and Melog, they were all ignored. It was wonderfully boring.

Entrapta had already vanished into the bustle as soon as they landed at the spaceport, and after a few worried minutes the squad decided that she’d make her own way back to the ship. Catra hated to admit it, but of all the people she’d ever met, herself included, no one was more capable of surviving almost anything than Entrapta. Anyone looking to roll the slippery little nerd would end up confused and missing half their belongings. Entrapta could take care of herself.

“How are we supposed to find anything in this place?” Glimmer asks, her annoyance cutting through the din around them. She’d left her tiara on the ship, but her clean, sparkling pastels still stick out like a sore thumb in the earth tones around them. Bow grins and shrugs. 

“I’ll just ask someone!” he suggests, walking up to the nearest stall with a bright smile. Catra winces, and quickly follows on his heels. Bow, she’s convinced, can’t take care of himself, and her tail smacks wandering fingers headed for his quiver before they even make it a few feet away from the others. The woman tending the stall reminds her of Bow, with the same rich dark tone to her skin, a tone shared by almost every other person in the bazaar. 

“How can I help you, young man?” the woman purrs, running practiced fingers over the cloth on her table, emphasizing the golden threads and rich shades. Her amber eyes glimmer with interest that’s not quite neutral as she admires his bared stomach, like so many others do. 

“Um, we were looking for someplace to buy a star chart? Maybe you know someone, ma’am?” Bow says, and Catra winces. Idiot! So what if the woman has greying temples, always settle for miss unless told otherwise! No wonder Arrow Boy and the sparkly wonder only _just_ managed to get together by the end of the war. The man has no idea about a woman’s body language.

The shopkeeper, for her part, remains impassive against the slight. She flashes the archer a more practiced smile even as her eyes flit over his form one last time, before darting to Catra for an instant. Catra wished the city didn’t stink around her, because she _cannot_ read those eyes and she’d like the added hint of scent to tip the scales in her favour. Was the woman annoyed? Assuming they were a couple? Just unhappy at missing a sale? Before Catra can cut in with a statement to try and smooth things over, Melog’s head pushes up from under her arm as the alien’s paws land on the table.

 _Oh! These are very beautiful! Adora would look nice in some of these!_ they inform her, their tail flicking joyfully. Colouring, Catra quickly shoves them back down, praying they didn’t leave expensive marks on the fabric. 

“I agree but don’t touch the merch,” she hisses, her gaze flitting back and forth between the shopkeeper and her friend. For someone who’s just had a strange animal paw at their wares, the woman rallies marvelously, dropping back into a warm, slippery saleswoman tone.

“You have some very unusual friends, young sir. But I don’t believe they will find what they need here.” she says, before gesturing expansively. “The shades are the best place to find information. Though, when you’re done, I’m sure I could find something that would fit _you_ well. I am an excellent tailor.” A single, gold-plated nail runs over Bow’s arm and Catra’s grateful Glimmer and Adora hung back, because she’s positive the shopkeeper would be eating her teeth by now. Grabbing the muscled idiot, she flashes the woman a fanged grin.

“He _does_ look nice, doesn’t he?” she purrs, her eyes sharp and challenging. For an instant, the façade drops and the woman looks like she’d like to kill Catra, but that’s fine, that’s fine. Bow’s taken, even if not by her, and Catra doesn’t mind doing Sparkles a favour in keeping this prowling cougar away from him. Bow sputters out his thanks as Catra frog-marches him away, scanning the press of people for purple or blonde hair. 

Adora is easy enough to spot, leaning over a table down the row and looking at the models on it with such wide-open joy, Catra’s heart melts. Maybe they could barter for one of those later, she finds herself thinking. Could she sneak one on board, and surprise Adora with it later? Bow snorts, startling her out of her private reverie.

“You’re purring,” he says. “I guess you just noticed Adora?” Tail thrashing, Catra scowls, even as Melog’s own purr deepens beside them. The alien is deft at moving through the mob, somehow keeping out from underfoot, but their mane turning from teal to a loving pink catches several curious eyes. She answers Bow's teasing query by elbowing some startled people aside and shoving him at his equally startled girlfriend. 

“Watch your beautiful idiot, Sparkles, or else someone’s going to wander off with your boy toy.” she growls, trying to hide her happiness as Adora's eyes _light up_ at their return. Glimmer gives a theatrically offended snort and runs an arm around Bow’s, possessively squeezing the laughing man to her side.

“I was guarding _your_ gorgeous moron, so fair trade,” she teases back, and Catra can’t stop the smile on her lips. Adora clutches a small colourful … hoverskiff? It looks related to one. A skiff, then, but so tiny it could really only be used as some sort of battle model. The man behind the counter looks as old as the hills around them, the lines heavy on his warm face. His golden eyes gleam with amusement, like an indulgent parent, as Adora fiddles with the flaps on the item. 

“Catra, you have to check these out, they’re amazing!” Adora coos, holding the object out, eager to show off. With a quick tap, she presses a hidden button, and lights sparkle and glow all over the tiny thing. It's charming. Catra can see why it caught Adora's eyes. Melog’s ears perk and they lean towards the table, nose twitching, but Catra’s tail boops their muzzle before they can cause some expensive damage.

"Finest toys in Gorn, young lady. Both sturdy and beautiful," says the man with pride. Toys! Catra forgets, sometimes, that those are a thing, the dolls and models and such of the cultures that weren't Horde-raised part of everyone's childhood. Catra did remember Adora having a cool rock, but it wasn't the same. That settles it, she'll have to surreptitiously buy Adora one. Her hand slips around Adora's arm so she can lead her lover away before Adora simply gets it for herself first. Or charms the man into giving it to her.

“We’ll check them out after. We have a lead for where to get the map but I promise we’ll come back here.” Catra reassures, and Adora’s face falls into a pout. Good, all the better for when she surprises her later.

“Fine, I guess…” grumbles Adora like a child, carefully returning the toy to its resting place. “We’ll be back, sir!” The man laughs and waves a hand heavy with rings.

“Take your time, little woman, I am going nowhere soon.” he assures her.

“C’mon, Sparkles,” Catra says, and Glimmer nods, already dragging her own lover away from the train set that he’s drooling over.

After a few steps, Catra regrets not letting Adora get a little token of their visit right away, because she can _see_ her girlfriend’s mood dropping. It's been hovering low since the incident with Geolon, with only quick perks of energy since then. Catra'd been hoping actually getting to Denebria would give Adora back that sense of whatever she was missing, control or purpose, but apparently it hadn’t helped. Catra shoulder-bumps her girlfriend lightly. 

“Hey, lighten up, princess, we’ve almost got the charts and then we can get back on track, right?” Catra quips with a grin. Melog prrrps and shoves their side into Adora’s thigh, their affection almost making the woman stumble in her steps. 

_Yes, it is going very well. Please be happy?_ Adora smiles weakly as that filters through her earpiece, and her fingers brush through their cloudy mane. 

“It’s not that.. It’s just..” Adora's voice trails off, and she looks off silently ahead, leaving whatever excuse it was unspoken. Catra’s tail flicks. She loves Adora, she _really_ does, but this moping is getting to be too much, even for her. 

“It just sucks to get one thing wrong? Babe, you have to let it go…” Catra growls, sharper than intended. Pain immediately floods Adora’s expression, and Catra fights a wince. Too harsh. Adora’s steps slow, and she looks at her feet as they walk. Catra stumbles over herself to try again."Shit, sorry.. but, really, Adora, you can't let this eat you up. I was hoping for one non-depressing space trip." Glimmer and Bow slow down as well, hovering close enough to listen, but keeping to themselves for the moment. 

“It’s not about getting it wrong. Catra. It’s just… " Adora snaps back, then takes a breath. Stroking over Melog's head in a way that's very familiar to Catra, she starts again. " It's just that the map thing’s the first thing that’s been… mine? Mine alone, that I _chose_ to do because I liked doing it? No one gave it to me or told me I had to do it or had to be good at it, it's just something I liked, and... And now we’re just going to _buy_ some maps. It just hurts. Like... the one thing I _want_ to do isn't actually good enough.” 

Catra swallows, her throat suddenly dry. Fuck, she’d pegged this all wrong. “We.. um.. Shit…” she stumbles, not sure what to say, her hand finding Adora’s automatically, fingers tangling. Glimmer glances at Bow, before giving Adora a careful smile.

“Hey, we’re just getting charts to compare yours to. You were working off of stuff from super old books, and you did an amazing job with that!"

“Yeah, we loved you maps. Besides, doing something you like is about liking it, right? It’s not about being the best at it,” Bow adds, before hissing when he catches an elbow in his stomach from a glaring Glimmer. “What?! It’s true, Sea Hawk loves singing and poetry but he’s… okay at best?” 

Catra snorts. “He’s terrible, Bow.” Adora’s smile brightens slightly at that too, but her eyes are still sad. Catra squeezes her hand, but she lets the others handle this for now. She's said enough over the last couple of days. 

“Your maps are beautiful. We love that you love doing them, and you ARE good at them…” Glimmer reassures Adora. "I bet there’s going to be stuff we find out on this trip that won’t be on any map. Maybe instead of making this about plotting our course it can be about making the first official maps for Etheria?” 

“Or just doing them for fun!” Bow reiterates, grinning. Slowly, the cloud passes from Adora’s features, and that bright determination Catra so loves returns. 

“Yeah, you guys are right. Thanks..” she says, sneaking a kiss on Catra's cheek. Catra might not deserve it, but she'll gladly take it. Melog nearly trips Adora with their own pleasure at hearing her voice brighten, and they bound around the group. That causes a few more sharp looks, but nothing they’re not used to. 

The Shades is easy enough to find, the bright upper city pockmarked with ragged openings into the darkened undercity. As they make their way to a dingy entrance to the lower levels, the temperature goes from baking to icy as they pass into the permanent shadows. Glimmer sighs with relief.

“Thank fuck we’re going out of the sun, I’m dying,” she groans, slumping against a cool wall. Adora nods, wiping a thin sheen of sweat from her brow. Even with her large ears and her fur guarding her skin, Catra was grateful for the change, the chill radiating from the metal around them making her perk up. Only Melog seemed unbothered, and she envied them.

“I have no idea how all these planets survive around STARS like this. They’re so hot!” Bow grumbles, rubbing the sudden gooseflesh on his bare arms. Melog trills a chuckle. 

_It is the normal for most of the universe, I believe. Krytis was such. Etheria is special and fortunate with its moons._

“Thank goodness,” Glimmer mutters, and the rest of the Etherians agree. 

The Shades was the old city, and if Gorn above reminded Catra of the Fright Zone as it could have been in a thousand years, here below was almost exactly like the one she grew up in, with moisture dripping from rusty pipes and rubbish clinging to corners. It was dark like her old home too. Unlike the Horde baracks, lit in sickly green, these streets lean towards a deep red lighting that somehow makes the dark feel darker. Catra’s pupils blow wide in the near-night of the undercity. Deftly, she grabs Bow, stopping him from walking into a pillar in his near-blindness. 

“Let your eyes adjust, dummy,” she snaps, and he freezes, flushing in a way only she can see. Glimmer is keeping a hand on the wall as they move into the gloom, but she stops as well. Catra smiles to herself, and then glances to Adora, who's staring right at her. Or right at the glow of her eyes, no doubt the only thing the blonde can spot in the dark. A few tense minutes pass until the rest of the squad’s pupils widen to the point they can pick out the faint, ruddy lights around them. The red lighting separates the shadows into figures, illuminating the denizens of the Shades balefully watching the interlopers. Glimmer hisses in a sharp, startled breath.

“Fuck!” the queen mutters, her eyes flickering from one lurking form to another. The market keepers above were cheerful and warmly coloured and very much like Bow and Glimmer and Adora in form. They didn’t even have pointed ears or claws or hints of scales or feathers. The Shadesdwellers around them were anything but. They didn’t look warm, or welcoming. They looked _monstrous._

"Yeah, that's the other reason I wanted you guys to stay still until you could see," murmurs Catra. Her eyes haven't stop staring at the people around them, daring them to try anything to her friends while she waited. 

There’s people resembling lizardfolk, but squat and grey-black. Some that remind her of the beast-men from the Horde, only hairless and with skin tones in unpleasant shades of corpse green and bruise purple. There’s a few one-offs, too, like a huge man that looks carved out of stone, a little fluffy person with huge ears and an incongruously colourful tail, a being that drips unpleasantly. But what really stands out are the pale folk.

Catra suspects this last group is what made Glimmer curse, and she can’t blame the glitterbug for that. Technically speaking, they look the most Etherian-standard of the lingering figures, but as pale as clones in a way that looks unhealthy. The eyes ranging from bright pink to deep red, and they all have blonde or ghostly white hair. Unlike most of the others, who are trying to hide the fact they’re watching the visitors, the pale ones all openly stare, a dozen sets of ruby eyes looking, unblinking and emotionless, at the very small, very out of place visitors. Glimmer shivers and moves closer to Bow.

Catra wonders if Glimmer’s reaction was just surprise or her tapping a deeper instinct, because even from here, Catra can smell the stink of blood off of them. Predators. The Alliance was full of caprines and selkies and lepidoptera and primates, and they’re all fine and good people. But Catra well remembers, when she was on the wrong side, how they looked at _her._ That primal fear that comes up from their hindbrain when they end up face to face with a true _carnivore._

Well, fuck these white bastards. Catra isn’t some soft princess, and she’s pretty sure her claws are the strongest in the room. Flexing them, she swaggers over to the tallest in the group of pale folk. The man peers down with a light, curious smile, spinning a stick of something between his fingers. This close, she can even see the blue veins under his skin, and a dusting of a beard over his chin. He looks like he hasn't seen the sun since this undercity was built. Tucking the stick away into a pocket, he holds up his hands, palms out and fingers wide, in a universal gesture of supplication.

“Calm down, kitty, we’re not here to fight.” he purrs, his voice light and lilting. Catra feels her hackles going up, her tail fluffing out. Melog growls, low and deep like a threat thrown down a well, and she doesn’t even need to look to know they’re at her side, ready to tackle any problems. The red eyes dart from her to the alien, and now he looks nervous. Good. “Honestly. We’re just not used to tourists,” he says, and his tone is theatrically playful. The other pale ones melt away, off to find someone else to menace, and the rest of the shadesdwellers slip deeper into the shadows. 

“We’re just here for star charts,” comes a familiar voice behind her. Catra nearly jumps out of her skin, so caught up in the stare down she'd forgotten about the others. Adora’s soft hand rests on her shoulder, grounding her, and the feline lets her claws slip back a little. Flashing a tight smile, even Adora has to look up at the man, but unlike Glimmer, she doesn’t look bothered. Adora _likes_ staring down carnivores. “We were wondering if you’d know where we could trade for some, Mr….” 

“Mx, actually, but Alex is fine,” the pale one says, the tension in their body unraveling at Adora playing good officer to Catra’s bad. Sighing, Catra slips her hand over Adora’s, giving it a squeeze, and Melog’s mane calms down to its usual teal. Cocking a finger, they flick their head towards Bow and Glimmer. “Are your friends joining us or did they just send you to do the dirty work, kitty?” 

Scowling, Catra snarls, “ _Don’_ t call me that.” Even over the stink of rotting metal, Adora’s anger is a sharp tang, going from reasonable to furious at the word. Better Catra cuts that off before her girlfriend She-ra’s out on the unsuspecting.. Whatever they are. “It's Catra, and no, I just take the dirty work on myself.”

“Mmm, name’s a bit on the nose there, but fine, Catra. I suppose if I can’t call you kitty you’ll do me the same courtesy and not call me leech?” Alex asks, and at their blank expressions, they flash a smile with too many sharp teeth. “Oh, darlings, you _aren’t_ from around here, are you?”

* * *

Somehow, they end up in Alex’s office, a small dingy room barely lit by more of the deep red lights that seem preferred in the Shades. The leech seems entirely too friendly and warm, downright eager to help, and Catra doesn’t trust it for a second. 

“Now, I don’t generally make map sales, but I _do_ know people who know people,” they tell her with another fangy smile. She smiles back, showing her own sharp teeth, and that grants her a raised eyebrow almost too pale against the white skin to see. 

“Do you now?” Glimmer asks, arms crossed, glaring at the strange alien as if they were a diplomat who just wiped their nose on a Bright Moon tapestry. She’d almost look cute if it wasn’t for the ice cold eyes. Clearly whatever was rubbing Catra the wrong way was hitting the queen the same. Bow, for his part, looks nervously embarrassed, and Adora is leaning against one of the tight room’s corners. It’s a Horde trained move, making sure that nothing and no one could sneak up on them. 

“I _do,_ oh fuchsia one. I’m what you might call an information broker,” Alex says, opening a slender book-shaped computer that both looked ancient and still more high-tech than anything Catra’s ever seen. It all clicks at that, and Catra’s eyes narrow.  
  
“So, a spy.” she says, flatly. Alex looks amused. 

“Hardly. Too much effort when people are just willing to come and tell me things. It helps that I’m so charming,” they add, and Glimmer rolls her eyes so hard Catra’s worried she might sprain something. Alex taps a few things on the keyboard, and then pops out a small flat thing from the side. It looks like a very thin crystal. “These are the charts, but I’m surprised you’re out here without something up to date. I know things have been a bit chaotic since the collapse, but yours shouldn’t be _that_ off.” They hold the chip out, and Catra stares at it. 

“And what do you want for it?” she asks. Nothing’s ever simple, and this was all just too good to be true. Alex clears their throat. 

“Nothing. This is hardly anything, and I’d rather you all not get chipped or robbed.” Looking between the group and seeing absolutely no warmth, they laugh. “Children, caution is healthy but it’s just some maps. I’m not going to _eat_ you.” Still not getting what they want in reaction, they sigh, and set the chip on the table. “If you’re all so terrified of coming down here, why did you follow your feline friend into the Shades?” 

The question is directed at Glimmer, who still looks about as soft as a knife, but Bow’s the one that answers, even putting his hand up to do so. “I was told by this woman in the market that we’d find what we’d need down here. Um…” Catra’s ear’s flick, and she thinks back to the conversation. The woman was rather focused on Bow, but...

“What she told him was that _his friends_ , being Melog and I, wouldn’t find what we needed up there and to try down here.” Catra clarifies, a suspicion stirring in the back of her brain. “But _he_ was welcome to come back after.” Glimmer chokes at that, and Catra can’t stop the flicker of a smile. That poor shopkeeper was doomed when Sparkles finally gets her glittery hands on the woman.

Alex’s grin is wide and toothy, their expression twinkling with mirth. “Of course she said that. People like you and I aren’t exactly popular up in the light of day, Catra,” they note, emphasizing her name with a click of their teeth.“Cityfolk generally don’t come down here except on dares, and offworld tourists stick to the souks. It’s just criminals and mutants and cave dwellers and leeches like me.” The list is trotted out casually, but a flicker of anger, just a shadow, flashes across the pale one’s expression when they say that. Thinking back, Catra did notice a certain sameness to the people above. There weren’t any clones, sure, but there also weren’t any tails or fangs or horns. Alex leans back in their chair, and she can see how they watch her, a small smile on their lips. They throw her a wink.

“Mmm, your unfurry friends could have gotten a chart at any tourist shop. They have the right look, especially abs here. But lucky for _you_ , Catra, that delightful racist accidentally made sure you’d get a _useful_ map.” Adora's body tenses a little at that turn of phrase, and Catra's eyes narrow. She has to fight against ruining the already old and battered desk with her claws. Oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature among their audience, Alex taps the chip pointedly with a fingertip. “I know people, and those people know where the raiders and pirates and civil wars are happening. With this, you children should be able to keep away from the worst of it.” Glimmer stiffly leans over to take the chip, tucking it away somewhere in her pastel blouse. 

“And what do you _actually_ want for it,” the queen asks. Alex acts affronted, clutching a hand to their chest. 

“The start of an undying friendship?” they suggest. Glimmer practically growls. Sighing, they lean over the desk, and gesture at Melog. “Well, if we _have_ to make this transactional so you little lost lambs feel safe, I wouldn’t mind knowing more about your friend here.” Melog perks up, earspikes tilting forward. 

“You and me both,” Catra mutters, without thinking. Alex picks it up, and tilts their head.

“Meaning…?” they ask, almost innocently enough that one could miss how obviously they were angling for information. Catra stands, flicking her tail rudely in their face as she turns. 

“Meaning thanks for the maps, _leech_ ,” Catra purrs. While the best friend squad was a pain in the ass, impossible to keep organized and chaotic on missions, they know each other well enough that Catra no longer has to say when it’s time to leave. She turns to walk out, Adora dropping automatically to her side and Melog on her other. Glimmer and Bow fall in behind her as smoothly as a squad, and only Arrow Boy’s muttered apologetic thanks to the alien ruin the perfect choreography of the moment. 

Alex, for their part, doesn’t seem the least put off by the behavior. They just wave them out, not even bothering to stand, instead going back to whatever they have on their personal computer. They don’t even look up as the squad exits, directing their words to the screen in front of them. “Anything for you _, kitty._ You kids stay safe out there.” 

Catra can’t stop the shudder to the tip of her tail. 

* * *

“Hey, guys, we got our map. Any sign of Entrapta back at the ship yet?” Glimmer asks, opening the coms as soon as they’re out from under the unsettling gloom. The heat hits them like a wall, but no one’s complaining now. 

“Ah! I was attempting to contact you. She has apparently found the technology district.” Rupert says, sounding world-weary. “I.. believe we might be able to lure her back for food, but if not I shall let you know where to possibly find her.”

Catra cuts in, “Listen, we’re going to be shopping for a bit, you dor--- clones want anything?” The channel lights up as Abby and Kadroh cut in, talking at the same time. This time Abby wins.

“Hair dye! And clothes! Ah, and Kadroh wants ingredients.” the clone says, her voice vibrant with excitement. 

“How about you, Rupert?” Catra asks, suppressing a laugh. There’s another sigh.

“I cannot think of anything in particular. If you see something, you may, as they say, surprise me.” he informs them. She can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Got it.” she says, certain they can find something, and signing off. Turning, she sees the rest of the squad staring at her, bright eyed. “..What?”

Glimmer grabs her up into a too-tight hug. “Best friend squad shopping trip!” she squeals as Catra fights to wriggle free. 

_Will we be getting the pretty cloth for Adora?_ Melog asks, as excited as the rest of them. Catra colours as Adora gives her a look, and she growls at the alien.

“I’m _not_ going back to that vendor. Besides, Adora wanted the little glowy skiff toy, not a dress.” To Catra’s horror, the moron squad only pile on even more affection on her when she says that, Adora and Bow joining Glimmer in the crushing squeeze. 

“Awwwww, Catra, you’re such a good girlfriend!” Bow coos, ignoring Catra’s gagging noises. “You noticed!” The magikat finally struggles free, glaring at them all.

“Shut up! Only an idiot wouldn’t notice her making goo-goo eyes at the toys, and… it’s.. It’s not like we had those things as kids, so why shouldn’t Adora get one now?” Grabbing the still grinning Adora’s wrist, she storms off into the market to find the stall, letting the din of the crowd drown out the commentary from her friends.

It was harder to find the toy vendor than any of them expected, the turns and twists of the market spinning them in circles, but eventually they’re able to retrace their steps and see the familiar stall with its small, smiling man. His golden eyes light up when he sees them, and Adora eagerly waves.

“See! I told you we’d be back,” she says cheerfully, leaning over to look at the delightful tiny models again. The elderly man laughs and shakes his head, the jewelry on his brow tinkling softly. 

“I did not doubt, but some people will say that to escape an unwanted purchase,” he says, his voice playful and warm. His eyes meet Catra’s, and she tenses, wondering if he’ll also politely suggest she shouldn’t be here, but instead he winks at her. “And would you like something as well, Catra, was it?” Catra’s ears flick straight up in surprise.

“You remembered.” she says, unable to stop a smile. Remembering names is good trick to have and one she’s taken advantage of often in her diplomatic work; use someone’s name when they don’t expect you to care enough to know it and they almost always warm up to you. Knowing the secret does nothing to prevent the soft feeling inside her, though, or the tiny purr at the back of her throat. Drumming her claws on the table, she looks over the models. “I suppose it depends how barter works here. I’ve got my Etherian salary but I doubt those credits are good here.” 

Adora’s hand jerks away from the toy it was hovering over, and her cheeks colour. “S-shit. I forgot about the whole money thing,” she says, sheepishly. Catra shrugs, her tail flicking and the man raises an single eyebrow at the blonde, but his expression is still warmly indulgent. 

“Used to your lady friend purchasing things for you, young miss?” he teases, and Catra warms even more. She grins, enjoying seeing Adora squirm, the blush dusting her girlfriend’s cheeks a sight Catra never tires of. 

“No, _someone’s_ used to being She-Ra back home and having people simply _give_ her things.” Catra drawls in a sing-song voice. In the not-too-distant past, Catra’s words would have etched her throat with acid, but now they’re dripping with affection. Adora pouts, giving Catra a wounded look.

“I .. I pay for things! Plus you can’t say I don’t work hard, doing my She-Ra stuff.” Adora snaps back. Turning to the shopkeeper, she gives him a worried little smile, hopeful but uncertain. “But … um, yeah, that’s not a thing here, so I don’t suppose there’s anything you might want in exchange?”

“We have some antiques on the ship,” Bow suggests, admiring the workmanship on a model animal with several legs. “The whole _thing_ is an antique, really..” 

The man has grown quiet, looking over Adora appraisingly, and then Catra. He taps a thick finger to his chin, and nods. His face lights up into a broad, generous smile, and he reaches over to pet Adora’s hand.

“Assuming you’re not lying, dear girl, I think there might be something you can exchange with me.” Adora gives him an uncertain little grin, looking to Bow. 

“I mean, Bow knows better about antiques, and I’m not lying about the money thing…” she starts, and the man laughs. His golden eyes twinkle and he gestures the best friend squad to lean in close. In this tight, under the heavy awning of his table, even the din of the market grows muffled. It feels secret, clandestine, and the words he says next may go some way to explain why.

“You misunderstand. I might have an offer for you, _She-Ra_....” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. It's been a very stressful month as my government support ran out and now I'm just... struggling in general.. for food, rent, the usual. Makes it hard to write, or to even want to write. But reading Blood on the Cut really jumpstarted my desire to carry on with this work. So thanks to that work! I'd link it but it's VERY explicit and this IS a teen-rated fic.
> 
> Also shown here is another cameo for a friend and supporter, this time of Nae's character Alex. They're he/they and really very delightful and don't deserve how Catra treated them here.


	18. Chapter 18

The old man shuffles them into the shop behind his stall, bells tinkling cheerfully on the doors as they pass a sensor, and the chill out of the bright light of the starlight of Denebria is once again a relief. Catra feels like heat is just pouring out of her ears and Glimmer gives a soft, pleased groan. The shop has that same strange mix of modern Horde and Crimson Wastes. On one hand, every surface is metal, the walls full of screens and strange keypads and wires pinned tight. On the other, the cloth curtains separating spaces from each other, the rampant decoration and the sand they’ve tracked in? Pure Wastes. 

Catra’s eyes are drawn to a massive screen that takes up one wall, but she barely has time to consider the sort of media one could watch on that before Adora’s dragging her further in. The back wall is nothing but shelves of toys over a table which looks like one of Entrapta’s work benches. Adora’s eyes are sparkling wide as she looks over them, and even Catra is grinning. Melog moves to snuff at the tiny parts over the table, and the old man freezes. 

“Melog, get back here!” Catra hisses, and the alien grumps, before pulling away. The toymaker visibly calms down. Crouching, Catra cups the alien’s huge head and murmurs, “Maybe small Melog for in here? And don’t break anything or else Adora might have to She-Ra here for a month to pay for it all.” The mood off of the alien is grumpy, but they shrink down to housecat size and mew at the group. The man blinks, owlish and slow, and closes his mouth.

“I.. have never seen an animal quite like him,” he says, with wonder. Behind him, Adora has straightened up and Catra can see she has her game face on, a feat given all the distractions around them.

“So, what exactly do you want She-Ra for?” she asks, cautious, her brows knitting together and threatening to plant a line of worry on her forehead. Catra longs to kiss it away, but not here, not now. 

“And how do you even know about She-Ra?” Glimmer adds. The man gives a quick, dismissive gesture of his hand and clicks his tongue. 

“Allow me to offer you water first,” he says, slipping behind a curtain. The squad glance at each other, uncertain if they should follow, but almost immediately the man is back with cups. Shuffling over to one of the busy walls, the one with the screen, he sets them into a cubby and presses a button. Water swishes into the cups, and Bow audibly _gasps._

“We have to set up something like that back home,” he whispers to Glimmer. Handing out the glasses, pretty things decorated with gold foil, the man smiles indulgently as they drink, before having his own. He then goes to sit, and Adora automatically moves to help him into his chair. Smiling up at her, he pats her arm lightly and nods. “Such a kind young woman. You remind me of my own granddaughter. So!” He claps his hands together, his amber eyes bright and his smile growing. “I suppose the answer to both these questions are more than you deserve, but I believe I must answer out of order.”

“Out here, in the tri-solar system, you must understand that Prime has had a very long… very intimate influence over these worlds, these people. Some worlds have been lost entirely to his needs, and many people here were very dissatisfied, so imagine our surprise when some of our own returned from years in exile and started to spread the word of things long forgotten.” The man gazes into his cup, spinning it in his hands. “Talk of magic. Of someone who was capable of defeating Prime and the Horde. A being called She-Ra, out of legends very old from a world far away.” He laughs, soft and bemused.

“You must understand, ladies and sir, I thought this was complete madness. When you have lived as long as I have, you understand things don’t simply change so easily, even if on the surface they may seem to. History and tradition are the two long arms that hold the sky aloft, is what we say here in Gorn. But this She-Ra, this idea, it united people in a way I had not seen before.”

Bow moves to collect everyone’s cups, and Catra wonders for a second until the man laughs and says, “It’s the green button, young man, just make sure the glasses are on the circles before trying to pour the water.” The engineer practically skips over, delighted to play with the machine, and quickly returns with more of the cooling water. Catra doesn’t need to drink quite as often as the others, she doesn’t sweat after all, so she slips her second cup down to Melog, who had been forgotten in the first round. Clearly the old man wasn’t used to intelligences that aren’t like him, but she can hardly blame him for the mistake.

“So polite, young sir,” says the man with a laugh, accepting his own cup. “Your parents raised you well.”

“Oh, not sir, just Bow,” Bow says, sheepishly smiling. The man nods. 

“A strong name. My own is Sundar, after our largest sun.” the man says. Glimmer arches an eyebrow. 

“Your.. largest child?” she asks, confused, and Sundar stares back at her, equally confused for a moment, before shaking his head and laughing. “No, no, I mean our star that lights the world. I assume you four are from a rogue planet, then, a wanderer.” Looking between the others, Glimmer shrugs, before nodding. Settling back in his chair, Sundar continues, his fingertips playing with the rim of his cup as he talks.

“Names are important, here. Names, traditions, your place and role in society, all are deeply meaningful for our people. And yet… this promise, this She-Ra, it was enough to shake the roots of the mountains. The debased and the holy, the wicked and the good, the lowest thief and highest ruler, working together under this banner of hope and magic.” He shakes his head, a thoughtful smile on his lips. “In my long life, I had not seen the like.” Looking off into space, he taps his fingers on the cup. “And just like that, the sign the Rebellion had been looking for. The children of Prime dropped to their knees in an unknown agony, and his rule broke. Now, we just pick up the pieces.” Looking to Adora, Catra can see a familiar hunger in his eyes. For some, stories are enough. But others need to touch, to feel, to see. Adora can see it too, and with a practiced flick of her wrist, she summons her sword, pulling the object out of the very woven threads of space. 

“So, it was not a lie, told to gain some baubles and trinkets.” Sundar breathes, eyes wide with wonder. Bow barely has time to grab the cup as it falls from the old man’s failing fingers, forgotten. Adora’s smile quirks, and she tilts her head. 

“Would you like to see her?” she asks, and Sundar’s brows raise. 

“Is.. Is this not the magic, then?” he asks, and Adora’s grin broadens. 

“For the honour of Grayskull!” 

Catra’s spine tingles as the magic fills the tiny space, flowing into everything and everyone as Adora fills out and grows. The bright glow of pure power bathes the room with prismatic light, scintillating as it reflects off of every reflective surface. Her eyes aren’t on She-Ra, though, but Sundar. 

There’s something special about when people see She-Ra for the first time. Back home, no matter how many images or stories or videos they’ve seen, there’s always this wonder when she finally appears, living breathing magic. The wonder is here too, but now there is also shock. Sundar’s dark skin has paled, his mouth dropped open. A shaking hand reaches out, blindly. Catra wonders if the man had any idea at all what a She-Ra even _was_ , or if it was just a word, a symbol. 

“I… I must admit, I had my doubts,” he says, after a long moment, staring up, way up to where Adora’s diadem brushes his ceiling. The houses here are tall, but not magical goddess tall. “I assumed you were merely people who had heard of the rebellion and hoped to gain something from using famous names. I did not… I …” he licks his lips, clearly struggling for the words that came so easily before. “I did not expect this. I was not told...” 

Adora drops to a knee, her glowing eyes bright, kind, and reaches out to cup her strong hands over the leathery gnarled ones of Sundar. The brightness glows, and the man’s amber eyes drop to stare. She lets his hands go, and he slowly flexes his fingers, shock and wonder turning to amazement.

“Show off,” Catra murmurs, her voice bathed in affection. She-Ra just winks at her. She loves her little party tricks.

Sundar rises more smoothly to his feet, now, and the colour has returned to his face, along with a certain look of purpose. Smiling widely at the golden warrior, he claps her arms warmly. “Please, help yourself to whatever bauble you like!” 

“And what do you need from me?” She-Ra asks, her voice that step lower that makes Catra’s tail curl. Sundar laughs, warm and bright.

“Ah! I feel like it may be asking for a lot, but would I perhaps be able to have a photo of you? You and your friends?” Bow laughs and Glimmer grins at that, and even Catra’s smiling. Sometimes it’s just that simple, a signature or a photo or a handshake with a legend, though they only get included half of the time. His eyes turn to Catra, and they sparkle. As if reading her mind, Sundar adds, “I do not think I could forget you, Catra, but it would be nice to have proof of this all. To see is to know.” She blushes a little, and laughs. Melog perks up as well, and rushes to join the photo, sitting politely by Catra’s side.

 _I like this man_ . they say, and Catra nods. Times like these make her miss George and Lance and the feeling of family they bring. She wonders if Bow feels like that. Probably, they are _his_ fathers first, of course. And like every photo, there’s shuffling, and She-Ra has to half-squat to fit in, and then they must press together, but finally Sundar seems to have gotten something he’s satisfied with. 

“One moment, one moment,” he trills, and Catra can’t help but notice how much more smoothly he moves on his feet. Adora catches her eyes and grins, prideful, but rightly so. “Pick out what you all would like, and I will return.” He moves into the back curtains once more, and they all move to look over the toys, She-Ra’s magic fluxing and then flowing out into the world as Adora shrinks back down.

They all seem drawn to different things. Glimmer loves a little warrior, bright with armour that looks nothing like that in Bright Moon. Bow is looking at tiny weapons. Catra’s eyes are drawn to the skiff-ships, she’s always loved them. But Adora, instead of grabbing the ship she had before, picks up a delicate spacecraft. It’s beautiful, with a shape reminiscent of a hawk, and when turned on, it freely hovers a few inches off of its surface.

“For Entrapta. She’ll be pissed she wasn’t able to get to see this,” Adora explains, and Catra rolls her eyes.

“Be selfish, dumbass,” she counters. “I’ll grab something for Entrapta, we both like the skiffs after all.” Adora sticks out her tongue. 

“Exactly, so YOU grab one and I’ll grab this.” Adora says, smug as ever. 

“He’d probably GIVE you an extra toy for Entrapta, you know,” Glimmer says, turning over a soldier. Bow hisses through his teeth and says, “Glimmer, we’re not going to ask him _that,_ he’s already being really generous. Any one of these probably takes days to make.”

“Weeks, sometime, young sir. But it is no matter. Who might this Entrapta be?” Sundar asks, stepping back in with a smile. 

“Oh, she’s our friend, she’s out doing shopping.” Bow explains. “But you really don’t have to.” The man’s eyebrows raise up into his jeweled headband.

“Ah, so there are more of you?” he asks. 

“Just her,” Glimmer cuts in, before Bow could say any more. Catra’s tail flicks and Bow’s face changes in an instant, before nodding. 

“Yeah.” No need to mention the clones to someone in the Rebellion, after all. It’d .. probably take a lot of explaining, and She-Ra might not be enough. “She went off to look for parts for the ship.” 

Clapping his hands together, Sundar smiles. “Well, I had intended to invite you to return for a meal tonight, and if that is the case, it gives you time to inform this friend so she may join us as well. I suppose offering her a toy might be worth the trouble of asking you all to return to meet my family?” Adora snort-laughs.

“Sir, you’re giving us so much stuff, we should be asking you that!” Sometimes the feasts and festivities around She-Ra were too much for Adora, but after a month in a spaceship, she was clearly eager to eat. She holds out her hand, and the man takes it, before jumping a little as she gives it a shake. “It’s a deal. Um… we’re not clear on the time here? When would you want us to come back?”

Sundar frowns and goes to dig through a drawer in his workbench, pulling out a small square of gold on a chain. Tapping the front, numbers light up. “Here. This is set to local time, return at 18:00 hours I believe. Even if you should lose this, the second sun will have just dropped below Mahan at that point.” None of those words mean anything to the group, but they politely nod. Now was not the time to quiz someone on every mountain and star.

“We really shouldn’t take your watch too, sir,” Bow says, accepting the device, but Sundar waves it away, and this seems more than a polite dismissal.

“It is literally garbage. I have it set aside for parts, good sir, and I would not give it to you normally, such is my shame.” he says, before looking them all over. “If you would like, you may leave your presents here until you return. The market is busy and full of thieves. Just set them on my workbench, so that I may not accidentally sell them.” He winks, and they nod, all quickly choosing something. 

Catra settles on a skiff that looks designed to glide over sand or water, fast and pretty. Adora picked the toy that drew her to the stall in the first place, her fingers tender over its delicate lines. Bow picks a model weapon that shoots small jewel-like pellets, and Catra can tell by the brightness of his eyes that the toy will not stay in one piece when they’re on the ship. And finally, it’s only Glimmer left. She struggles to choose between two figures, one in robes, one in armour, before Sundar rests his hands over hers and directs her to place them both on the table. And with that choice made they’re shooed away from the shop. 

“While you are delightful, sir and ladies, I must earn my living. Besides, I have much to prepare for tonight,” Sundar says with an apologetic smile, and they all quickly reassure him. A final wave and the group is off into the crowd. 

As Catra swats away a cutpurse aiming for her side, she’s glad they left their toys behind for now. The small boy, a lizard-like creature and the first she’s seen aboveground, hisses at her before scuttling away to find easier prey. Her eyes dart around to make sure he wasn’t a distraction for another, more clever thief, and there’s a flash of a colourful tail around someone’s ankles, but that vanishes too into the press of people. 

The crowds have grown even more dense, now that the largest sun has started to drop behind the mountains once more and the thickest heat is gone from the air. They’re buffeted by the swell and press of people, and Catra finally has to wrap her tail around her waist to prevent it getting caught or pinched. Beside her, Melog presses tight to her thigh, and she drops a comforting hand into their mane. They’re still avoiding getting trodden on, but it feels like a near thing sometimes. 

_I would like to return to the ship_. Melog finally says, their tail swishing. Their mane looks fine, still teal, but Catra isn’t surprised to hear that. 

“Don’t blame you. This place is a lot.” she murmurs. Melog mrrrps, and looks up to her, eyes wide, hopeful. Laughing, Catra gives the alien a light shove, making the people she pushed them into give the party a sharp look. “Don’t give me that, you don’t need to ask permission! Just.. thanks for letting me know, okay? You good to find your way back, right?” Melog probably has the best sense of direction of them all, bar none, but she still has to ask. They nod, and give her a grateful lick, making her laugh and shove them away. Adora gives them a quick hug as well and adds, “I’ll sneak out some food for you, okay, buddy?” This makes the alien purr, and anoint her as well with a lick. 

_I shall see you all soon!_ they say, pulling away from the group. The tingle of magic flows across Catra’s fur, from toes to eartips and Melog vanishes. Catra follows that feeling with her eyes and senses until they’re lost in the crowd completely, uncertain if it’s just wistful thinking that she could even track them that far.

“That reminds me, we should let the others know we’ll be away for dinner.” Glimmer notes, reaching for her earpiece. They move into the shade near the mouth of an alley, the din of the market slightly lower there, and Glimmer opens the communication channel.

“Rupert? Or Entrapta?” she asks, and after a moment, the clone’s voice is the one that replies.

“Sister Glimmer, hello. How might the shopping proceed?”

“Slowly, we got sidetracked, and invited out to dinner. I hate to ask you, but would you guys be okay if we came back late? You’ll have to fend for yourself for food.”

There’s a pause, and then…

“Understood, of course. I regret that we can’t join you.”

“Awww, I promise we’ll bring you all something good to make up for it,” Bow says. Catra’s tail flicks, guilt flooding her. It wasn’t fair for the clones, and she knows that all too well. There’s still some places she can’t go, not really, even back home. 

“Oh, are we having dinner?!” Everyone’s hand jerks up to their earpieces to drop the volume.

“Entrapta! Oh thank fuck, we were wondering if we’d ever be able to find you!” Glimmer says. “Where _are_ you?” 

“Oh, I’ll just send you the location to Bow’s tracker pad,” comes the cheerful voice over their earpieces. Bow pulls out the tablet from his cloak and makes a face. Leaning over, Catra can guess why, since there’s now an entire map of the city, something they could have used hours ago. 

“Got it,” he says, cupping a hand over his ear. “I’ll mark where we’re meeting for dinner. Find anything good?” 

“Oh, yes! There’s an amazing amount of technology here. Frankly, it makes our stuff look primitive, it’s that amazing.” 

Looking at the tracker pad, his hard work of four years and many painful updates, Bow frowns slightly. Catra can guess what Entrapta means, if the device the leech that helped them had was any indication, let alone the toys they’ve just seen. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen the same thing. Mind if I join you? I’d love to check out some functional tech and get some ideas.” he says, carefully avoiding walking into a clump of people as he divides his attention between the pad and the busy market. 

“Yes! I’d love to have someone to bounce my theories off of, and for some reason everyone here is very busy, I’m not sure why? You’d think they’d be excited to discuss the microprocessors they’re selling!”

Adora catches Catra’s eyes and rolls her own. Catra just grins. No matter how much you might like robots or computers, it takes a special person to handle the force of Entrapta’s enthusiasm for tech. They can imagine some poor shopkeeper cornered by the bright eyed scientist. Catra’s respect for Bow’s intellect went up massively when she first discovered he was Entrapta’s second favourite person to talk technology with. That and his infinite, gentle patience.

“We’ll just go do the clone shopping, and you and Glimmer can help Entrapta take back all the new tech to the ship,” Adora says, quickly scooping up Catra’s hand. Glimmer’s eyes bug out and she glares sharply at the blonde as Catra quickly picks up what her girlfriend is saying.

“Yeah, Sparkles, they’ll need your teleport power or whatever.”

“I don’t have my teleport power, we’re in space.” Glimmer hisses, glancing around as if expecting a spy to be very interested in her sparkly-princess magical skills. Catra pauses, but Adora just laugh-snorts.

“Glimmer, you charged at the stone for hours before we left and you haven’t so much as twinkled. I _know_ you’re holding back. Besides, don’t you want some alone time with Bow?” she teases, and Glimmer’s already heat-blotched cheeks grow a deeper shade of crimson. Catra leans into Adora. She loves this side of her, the manipulative little shit from back in their Horde days. The observant one who could remember the weirdest fucking details. Glimmer sighs deeply, grabbing Bow’s hand. Leaning down, he tucks her hair back and gives her brow a kiss. 

“We’ll take the long route there. It’d be nice to hang out, just you and me, for once.” he murmurs. “No court, no interruptions, no one eavesdropping.” Glimmer shoots Catra a sharp look, and she just grins.

“You wanna talk to our resident vent monkey, not me, your majesty.” she purrs. Sighing, Glimmer nods. 

“Okay. We’ll meet back for dinner.” she agrees. “Don’t get kidnapped or murdered.”

“You never let us have any fun,” Adora says, her eyes sparkling. They take a moment to coordinate the tracker pad’s clock with the watch, Adora getting the little piece of tech for herself, and agree that Adora and Catra now have clone gift duty. Adora also gets a good long look at the map. Catra doesn’t tease her about if she’ll remember it, not after her cartographer stress before. Adora will. 

* * *

Finding gifts for the clones quickly becomes a problem as they realise that, once again, they don’t have any money to trade. And there’s lots of nice options, which makes it even worse. The ingredients alone would surely have Kadroh unwilling to leave, and even Catra has to admit the variety of clothes would have something all of the clones would like. No hair products that she recognizes, though. The hair supplies seem designed for the locals, creams and salves and stuff designed to moisturize and strengthen. They _might_ work on a clone, but neither Adora nor Catra knows what’d be right, and asking seems to be risky. It doesn’t matter, anyways. They can’t afford any of it. 

“I’m kinda surprised Entrapta didn’t mention the whole cash issue when we talked.” Adora says, as they hover by another table, admiring the selection of perfumes and oils. Catra snorts, squeezing her arm tight around Adora’s waist. 

“Please, she’s either going to steal the stuff or they’ll give it to her just to get her to go.”

Adora’s bright, goofy laugh is music to Catra’s ears. As the young man behind the table gives them a sharp look at the mention of theft, they quickly move on. 

“You’re right. I could try the whole She-Ra thing,” Adora suggests, mischievously. Catra rolls her eyes. 

“You could, and then we get to spend the rest of our date with kids hanging off your arms and people asking for autographs,” she purrs. Adora smirks.

“Oh, this is a date, now?” she teases, leaning too close to a pointed ear, her words sending a shiver down Catra’s spine. Flicking the tip, she fights back a blush.

“It’s.. date adjacent,” Catra replies, flippantly, the tingle growing. That wonderful, shivery feeling of magic. “Mmm, but calm down, you feel like you’re about to change right here.”

“Am not!” Adora objects, pulling away and pouting. Giving her a skeptical look, Catra just smirks. Dancing around the crowds, she easily walks backwards, facing her indignantly pretty girlfriend. 

“I could just use the Entrapta method of getting our things, princess.” Catra suggests, and Adora pout switches to a sly smile of her own.

“You could, but I don’t want an interplanetary incident.” she says, though Catra can see she’s tempted. Theft was a very necessary skill of their childhood, and they both took pride in what they could nick from supply closets and officer rooms without getting caught. Winking, Catra spins on her heels to lean over a table at random, pretending to admire powders out in bins and bowls. 

“It’s only an incident if I get caught.” Catra says, her tail flicking. Adora catches up, ducking through the press, and her fingers tangle around Catra’s tail, letting it twitch in her grasp.

“True, but think of the clones. They wouldn’t like that.” Adora argues. “Rupert would be indignant. Kadroh would cry.” Catra snorts, rolling her eyes. She hadn’t really been that serious about stealing, but Adora was dangerously close to convincing her to do it anyway. “Abigail looks up to you, too. Is that the sort of cool role model you want to be?” Adora adds, waggling her eyebrows, and Catra’s ears droop. She jerks her tail away from Adora’s touch and steps back from the table, a pang in the seat of her stomach. 

“Abby has terrible taste,” Catra grumbles. “I didn’t ask for her to.. to think I’m great.” She’s stopped by a firm hand on her arm. Sighing, her head droops. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I have to stop talking like that.” She’s pulled against Adora, doing nothing to resist, and arms wrap warmly around her. 

“You shouldn’t, but yeah, I get it. It sucks to have people just look up to you like that.” Adora murmurs, and Catra laughs, low and rough.

“It’s so dumb. She doesn’t even _know_ me, she has, like, this cool, capable fantasy idea of me. I hate it.”

“Mhm.”

“And I don’t want to let her down.”

“Mmm.”

“And that’s so fucking stupid.”

“Sounds it.”

“Shut up, _She-Ra_. I get it, dummy.”

Adora kisses the back of her ear, and Catra nearly melts into her. She’s tempted to just forget the market, find some corner, and pretend they’re back in the Fright Zone, hiding from everyone, clinging to each other. Only with the added advantage of Catra freely being able to carry out every fantasy she had back then. Pressing that down, even as her skin prickles with excitement and her body tingles, she snorts.

“I guess that’s why your sticky fingers skills are so bad now. Having to be a role model. Gross.”

“It is, it’s terrible.” Adora agrees. “It’s like I picture Bow’s sad face, but it’s _everyone_ , whenever I want to do something like that.” Catra sighs. 

“We’ll stick to only doing it to completely terrible assholes then?” she suggests, turning to rub against Adora’s cheek with her own. Adora winks. 

“Yep! Moral high ground stuff only,” she agrees, laughing. “We can go around until someone else is super racist to you?” Catra can tell Adora isn’t kidding here, or only half kidding. She’s down to find a reason to get stuff for their friends within the confines of this strange conscience they both have developed.

“Naw. But feel free to punch the next one. Gives you an excuse to She-Ra out, like you clearly want to.” Catra purrs. Adora’s brows wrinkle cutely, annoyed. 

“Catra, I really don’t.” she says. “And I’m not sure why you’re on _that_ , right now.” Catra’s purr deepens, and she moves down to mark her lover’s jaw as well.

“Please, princess, I can feel the magic around us. On a planet like this, it sticks out like a sore thumb.” At that, Adora’s annoyance turns to confusion, and she slowly lets go, stepping back. Crossing her arms, she gives her girlfriend a challenging look. 

“Hardly,” she counters, before smirking. “Close your eyes and point out where I am, magic only, smartass.” Catra blinks, but shrugs. Adora being so repressed she doesn’t even realise she’s leaking excited magic? Sounds like her. 

Playing along, Catra shuts her eyes, and spins around twice for good measure. She probably could pick her lover out by scent, even in this funk, but she forces herself to hold her breath, and just lets herself feel. There’s a lot here, more than she realised, little motes of magic that barely exist. Not what she was expecting. Still, there’s only one true beacon of magical ability in _this_ market. Sticking out like a sore thumb, bright and strange and disturbing the flow of the magic-motes around it. Satisfied, she flings her arm out, and Adora’s laugh cuts through the din, behind her.

“Not even close!” Catra’s eyes open, and she’s pointing down an alleyway. Frowning, she lowers her arm, and glares into the dark. She couldn’t be _that_ off. Catra trusts her instincts, and they tell her something with magic is definitely there. Melog? No, if it was a prank, this is the point they’d appear in front of her, and whatever it is is clearly trying to remain unseen. It’s impossible to pick up a scent here. Her nose is full of the uric tang of late night drinking and the thick rot of old garbage. There’s even a hint of thunderstorm and sulfur, probably from some of the weird equipment lining the tight space, chugging away noisily. Anything living and organic was easily hidden by the life around them everywhere.

Adora joins her, the inevitable tease drying on her lips as she takes in Catra’s posture. Catra can feel her partner grow alert, slowing her step with a hunter’s skill. In sync, Adora slips beside her, before swinging wide. Catra’s eyes spot... something. A hint of colour is there, and then not. As it flickers, her muscles tense. Her eyes meet Adora’s, and there’s a tiny nod. She sees it too. The next time it shows, sending magical sparks down her whiskers, Catra pounces, Adora darting past to cut off whatever it might be from escaping. 

“Gotcha, you sneaky magical shit!” Catra growls, triumphant.

Under her claws, a creature flickers into view, eyes wide and startled, pointed ears flattening back and snout squinching up in terror. They give Catra a panicked grimace that’s barely the cousin of a smile. The being flicks a long, fluffy, familiar striped tail and a delicate hand gingerly raises to give a little wiggle of their fingers in a careful greeting. It was the colourful little shit from the undercity. And the incident with the pickpocket. And, Catra now wonders, probably more times than she spotted, especially if they could do _this._

“Talk,” she snarls, and the little creature glances around, looking at Adora for help and only getting a cool glare. Oh, she's playing bad captain, worse captain, Catra’s favourite. The spy squirm for a moment, before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Heh-hee, you.. You found me?” Shrinking back when that wasn’t received well, their eyes dart around. “I… um….” They’re child height and slight in build, but so are many species back on Etheria. Still, Catra claws loosen just a touch. She’s not here to injure an actual _kid._ The little spy looks at Adora again, their tail speeding up with little flicks. Big eyes widen sweetly, and their little red nose twitches like a rabbit's in the most endearing way.

“Why are you following us?” Adora asks, her voice cold. The ears drop down more and the creature wilts. 

“I… just…” they sputter, “Thought you looked interesting?” Once again, there was a united polar front at that news. Sighing, the tail stops wagging and the expression falls. “Alex told me to keep an eye on you guys after you left.” 

“Oh that fucking pale _bloodsucker!_ ” Catra snarls. “We never should have taken their weird-ass deal.” The little creature waves their arms quickly, frantically.

“No! No, it’s not like that, they just wanted to make sure you’re safe! There’s a lot of bad people here, you have no idea…” Catra’s eyes narrow. A hustle, then. Pathetic, real Crimson Waste shit. Or maybe they’re trying to do some of that info brokering on the squad. Either way, Catra isn’t here to listen to however this creature plans to spin the job.

“Yeah, and you’re working for one. Tell your boss we’re not interested in that sort of ‘protection’.” The little critter opens their snout, clearly hoping to persuade, but Catra cuts them off. She lets her claws pinch, just a little. “And if I catch you following us again you lose that tail.” 

This seems to have the desired effect, and the ears practically vanish into the being’s messy blue hair, their striped tail frizzing up. Satisfied the little menace understands, Catra lets them go. They scramble back and stand, and yes, the being comes up just to below Adora’s waist. They give Adora a salute, of all things, and a shy smile.

“I promise you won’t see me again!” they say, their voice perky, and Adora nods. They seem to take this as permission to go, and make their escape. Remaining visible this time, the little imp darts up the nearest wall, grabbing a pipe and scrambling up it like a squirrel. Catra makes sure to follow their motions until the last flick of brightly coloured tail vanishes, before turning to her girlfriend.

“You _did_ notice they didn’t actually promise to stop spying on us, right?” Catra asks, arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh, yeah, not subtle,” Adora replies. Sighing, she taps her earpiece “We better let the others know about this.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


There were more abridged arguments over the coms when the clones discovered the issue with spies, but Rupert managed to constrain his siblings enough. Glimmer hadn’t noticed magic, she let them know, but would keep alert. 

“At least it’s not making you sneeze anymore,” she teases, directing that to Catra, and the feline scowls to herself. She hasn’t had that issue since Krytis, thank goodness. 

“Just let us know if you have a _bad feeling_ , glitter-butt,” Catra snaps back. 

“We should probably cut this short and go and warn Sundar as well. If they were following us that long they definitely know we were there,” Bow cuts in, his firm words stopping the squabble before it starts. Adora’s eyes widen, and she glances at Catra. 

“That’s.. Probably a good idea.” she agrees, and Catra watches as she incorporates that information and just… deals with it. Already making a plan. “We’ll head back now and meet you guys there.” Not waiting for an answer, she turns on her heels and starts quickly marching back. 

“Are we going already? But I’ve hardly looked at half of the workshops on this street!?” Entrapta whines, and there’s the muffled sound of chaos with the others trying to drag her away from something, before the coms cut off with a deafening buzz of static. Catra hisses, yanking her earpiece out, and Adora does the same, flicking it off and dropping it into her pocket. 

“That seems a little convenient,” Catra growls, and Adora mutely nods, her expression all business, serious and focused. 

“Think they’ve been eavesdropping?” Adora says, dropping her voice.

“Doubt it. Entrapta encrypts things for FUN, but they can probably tell we were talking to each other, and I guess stripes told their handler they were found out.” Catra replies, her own gaze darting back and forth, looking for anything suspicious, her senses stretched to painful limits as she tries to focus on everything at once. “Think the others were caught?”

Adora’s lips tighten. “We’ll find out soon enough. But Glimmer’s got her reserves, she can get out of there if she needs to. I hope.” 

Catra nods. She wants to go back, to check on her friends, but Sundar was the priority. The nice old man didn’t deserve to be on the wrong end of whatever that was, just for being kind to them. The trip back to his shop wasn’t as fast as she’d like, but Adora did her best to shorten the distance, cutting corners and heading through alleys. Still, as the daystars drop behind the mountains and the marketplace becomes even harder to navigate in the press, Catra can feel her pulse humming and her fur stand on end, impatient, fearful for what they might find. The relief when they see Sundar, healthy and whole and tidying things away on his table nearly makes her go boneless, and she can’t stop smiling. His eyes widen in shock when he spots them, and he quickly rushes some items inside before stepping back out.

“Young ladies, did you lose my timepiece? You’re a good three quarters of an hour early!” he says, laughing over his clear discomfort, and Catra can hardly blame him. She remembers how wild Castaspella gets when people show up before an event is finished being set up. “And where are your friends?” he asks, gesturing them inside as he grasps the cloth from his table. Adora automatically goes to help him take down the awning over the stall, and he smiles warmly at her. 

“They’ll be here soon. Sorry we’re so early, but we discovered someone was following us,” Adora explains, easily handling the canvas. Sundar freezes, and gives them a worried look.

“In what way?” he asks, and finally they follow him in. Catra sighs, and runs her fingers through her hair. The shop looks more disorganized than before, Sundar clearly and evidently mid-tidy before their visit. 

“It’s complicated, but someone we dealt with in the undercity has a tail on us, and we wanted to make sure you were safe.” she explains. At this, the man’s expression tightens, and he scowls at nothing. 

“Trash. You should have never gone down there.” he notes. Waving them into seats, he insists on fetching his cups again. From the back room, he mumbles something, and heads deeper in. Adora paces across the floor, throwing glances at the curtain, and at the door. Catra can’t feel anything magical at least, but maybe they wouldn’t bother with that now. Not if they know she can spot it. Just as her nervous energy turns to concern for how long Sundar is taking, he emerges, with cups and some small squares on a delicate plate. 

“Many apologies for the wait. I needed to inform the family of this new situation, and to let them know you arrived early.” Adora quickly goes to take the plates, but he waves her away, filling the cups himself and offering them. The water is more fragrant this time, as if it's been soaked in flower petals, and it makes Catra’s nose wrinkle, so she just takes a polite half sip before resting it in her lap. Adora downs hers and dives for the squares, and at that, Sundar’s wrinkles explode in a nebula of delight as he grins. 

“So hungry, child. Save some for your girlfriend and your friends, yes?” he teases. Catra laughs and waves his offer away with her hand. She’s too nervous to eat, just yet. She doesn’t want to feel sluggish if they’re attacked. 

Sundar sits, and once again Catra admires how much more smoothly he moves, the roughness of age eased by She-Ra’s magic. His hands tap over his thighs. “I must admit the monsters from below taking interest in you is worrying, young ladies, and it was very kind of you to think of me, but I have dealt with their kind before. Weedling, persuasive beings who twist words and try to invoke sympathy for their own ends.” He smiles once more. “But they are weak and retreating and unworthy of your concern.”

“Still, we’d feel better if we knew you were safe,” Adora says, her mouth full. Sundar shrugs expansively, before going to refill her cup. 

“I have my family to protect me, dear child. They are stronger than any weak alliance of ghouls and leeches and criminals.” Tapping her cheek tenderly, he passes the cup back. Adora smiles, taking it and drinking half.

"So, will we get to meet this granddaugther I remind you of?" she asks, and at that, the man's expression falls.

"Sadly, no... She is... ah..." he stumbles over his words, and now he looks old, really old, that youthful energy sapped in an instant. Adora blanches and stumbles out an apology, and he waves one of his heavy, beringed hands. "It is fine, it is fine. Sometimes, children make choices and they lead to a bad end. I wish it were otherwise." The silence is palpable as Catra clutches her cup so tightly her hands hurt and Adora is flushed dark with shame. Looking them over, Sundar slowly comes back to life, and he gestures expansively around his shop. "The benefits of my work is that there are many children in my life, now. Each as precious as can be, and perhaps I can set them on a better path." Adora nods at that, stumbling over her words, and settling on, "That sounds really... fulfilling." Sundar's own nod is generous and kind, benevolent in the face of their mistake. 

Catra’s ears shoot up as she feels magic again. This time, though, it’s a tell-tale pop that she’s felt every day for months. Sitting up straight, she grins with relief.

“Looks like everyone else made it.” she says, right as Glimmer staggers in, dragging Bow and Entrapta with her. “Took you long enough, Sparkles!” 

“Blame this!” the Queen growls, hauling Entrapta in front of her. The nerd princess’ arms are overloaded with bits and bobs of technical components, and she waves at them, dropping half of it. 

“Hi! Our communication network went down and I was trying to determine the cause of the interference.” Entrapta says by way of explanation. 

“You can do that _here_ ,” Glimmer snarls, and Catra can only imagine the royal having to scrabble after Entrapta trying to look for a signal up in some rafters. The smears of grime on her clothes and face paint a picture. Bow, for his part, merely looks resigned, and shrugs at Adora and Catra.

“I suppose, but I did want to try the spire instead, the uninterrupted OOOOO WHAT ARE THESE?!” 

Sundar jumps back from where he’d been moving to shake the new princess’ hand, startled as her hair comes to life and walks her over to examine his wares. Entrapta’s squeal is so high, Catra suspects she’s the only one who’s getting the full range of it.

“A pleasure, young mistress Entrapta, I believe….?” the toymaker gamely says, ignored. He goes to fetch the rest of their party scented water as well, and Adora reluctantly gives up the sweets. Even Entrapta grabs a few, popping them in her mouth as she disassembles one of the skiff toys. 

Entrapta shrugs, oblivious to the overture of friendliness, her eyes still on the mechanism in front of her. “Oh, I’m not a _mistress_ Entrapta, though,” and here the scientist gives a knowing snort, “Darla might say differently.” Everyone else freezes, but luckily the implications seem to go over their host’s head. That, or he’s too polite to say. Bow helps him back into his seat, and murmurs something into his ear, nodding to Entrapta. Catra images he’s smoothing out international relations regarding having a gremlin of a woman take apart a very expensive toy it took you weeks to make with her ambulatory hair. Sundar merely waves a hand in a gesture of ‘don’t mention it’

“So, I take it Adora and Catra explained the situation to you, sir?” Glimmer asks, trying and failing to clean a smear from her face. Taking a sip, she looks down in surprise at the water. “Oh, this is good!” 

“A herbal blend.” the man says with a modest inclination of his head. “More suitable for welcomed guests than mere water. Yes, I am to understand some of the thugs of the Shades have taken an interest in your little party. But as I have told Adora and Catra, I am more than capable of being protected. I do have my family, and many others who watch out, more than they know. I will be safe.” Bow doesn’t look entirely convinced, but Glimmer nods.

“They’re probably only after us, given they took our coms down.” she says, “Still, I’d hate for you to get mixed up in this.” The man laughs.

“Do not worry, your majesty, communication issues are common on this world. Interferences and such, signals cross. I doubt you need to concern yourself about that, I myself noticed the issue just now.”

Entrapta has managed to get two toys stripped down to parts now, and seems to be using those to create a third, new one, with distracted murmurs about power sources and crystal compression. She checks in to the conversations, though, at the mention of interference.

“Yeah, I noticed a _lot_ of issues with signal jamming when we approached Denebria. Honestly the communication system here is a mess, if I had the time I could make massive improvements!”

Catra nods, “She really could, it’s crazy,” she agrees. Adora is looking into her cup, frowning to herself, and Sundar reaches for it. She passes it over, and rests her hand on her chin. He then moves around to gather everyone else's, pausing to chastise Entrapta for not even touching hers. Not wanting to disappoint but finding the perfume of the drink nauseating, Catra quickly tips hers into a pile of canvas, sticking her tongue out when Glimmer catches her. Just in time too, as the kindly old man reaches her and says, “See, young miss, _Catra_ finished hers! You really must drink, the suns are strong and dangerous to off-worlders.” 

Smug in her deception, Catra watches him fill them back up and pass them out. Adora takes hers, barely nodding in thanks. As Sundar moves to chat with Bow, Catra leans over and murmurs “What’s on your mind?”

Adora glances over, and carefully pulls her earpiece out of her pocket, turning it back on. They can both hear a sharp hiss. She turns it off, and looks over to Sundar. 

“So, were you able to tell your family about us being here early?” Adora asks, and the man pauses to look over, nodding happily. 

“Oh yes, I did say, if you remember. It was very unexpected, but they should be here soon, dear lady,” he assures them. Catra’s tail flicks, and Adora frowns, but it’s Glimmer who puts her drink down and gives Sundar a slow, considering look. 

“How, exactly, did you know I was a ‘your majesty’?” she asks, the words sharp and threatening, revealing themselves like claws from a hand. Sundar’s expression flickers into one of shocked panic, just for a heartbeat, but it’s enough. As one, the best friend squad moves, but Catra watches in horror as Adora topples over, and she rushes over to catch her before she hits the ground. Adora’s head lolls and her hand shakes and falls limp as she tries and fails to make her muscles work. Her pupils are completely blown, focusing nowhere. Across the room, Glimmer attempts to jump from her chair only to drop heavily to her knees. Sundar easily sidesteps Bow's failing grasp. 

“The water!” Bow says, his voice strong even as he stumbles to keep his footing.

“Oh yes, so many things can go into water. Herbal blends to pacify and relax are a personal favourite. No, don't struggle, young sir, it only becomes more potent with adrenaline.” Catching Catra’s eye, he smiles indulgently. “I was worried at what She-Ra might require, but it appears three glasses was more than enough. As one should be for you, Catra.” 

Leaping, claws out, the feline pounces, fury hot and dark. A fury borne not just of seeing someone do anything to her Adora, but of a thousand small betrayals. Every person who ever pretended to care, who let Catra think she mattered to them, who let her take the _risk…_

“I didn’t drink your gross flower water, old man,” she spits out, slamming him to the floor hard enough that she wonders if she might shatter the ancient Denebrian. Instead, Sundar merely smiles, beatifically, in the face of her rage.

“And yet, I do not fear, because I know my family will protect me,” he says. Catra’s ears flick as the gentle tinkle of the bells over the door and the change in light tell of someone’s arrival, but more worryingly, there’s the soft sound of the curtains to the back room shifting aside as well. “Isn’t that right, brothers?” There’s a quiet laugh, a low, familiar chuckle, dark and bemused.

“Indeed. We are here to protect all of Prime’s children, Little Brother…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than I'd like because this has a lot of moving parts I had to coordinate. I'd considered splitting the chapter when they find, well, Loo-kee, but kept it in as the other cliffhanger has been planned for months and would have been weird on its own short chapter, or mid-chapter.
> 
> On the bright side, the NEXT chapter is a lot more developed now and should take nowhere near as long to come out, as a result of organizing THIS one


	19. Chapter 19

It wasn’t the terrifyingly unexpected silhouettes of clones that shocked Catra. Well, no, it was. The moment the three clones walked in from the back room, ducking through the curtain and pulling their unsettling bone-white cowls back, Catra’s veins filled with ice. 

It wasn’t _only_ them, though. What truly stunned her was turning to see the enemies coming in through the front door. Seeing they’re just…Denebrians. Regular boring men from around the city. One particularly fat one looks like a shopkeeper she remembers glaring at her when she examined his meats for Kadroh. She never thought, it never occurred to her… her fingers roughly scrabble, feeling behind an unresisting Sundar’s neck, but it’s bare, terribly bare.

Her fur stands up on her own neck, her scalp prickling, and her head whips around to glare at the clones. “Where is it? Where are you bastards hiding the chips now?!” Sundar merely laughs, holding his hands up in a way that reminds her of that little spy, but his expression is bemused, not worried.

“Oh Catra. For one brought up properly, a chip is entirely unneeded.” he says, his tone soft. Almost apologetic. Eyes wide, she jerks back off of him, hissing. Looking around, she can see Glimmer has already passed out, face down in the dusty tiles, and Bow’s eyes, while open, are unfocused. He groans as two of the men approach his girlfriend, but can’t even turn his head. Adora’s completely limp, eyes closed, without so much of a twitch. Sundar was right, one glass was more than enough to knock anyone out. Ears shooting up, her gaze swings over to where Entrapta was fiddling with an intricate model, oblivious to the invaders, her own cup of water still ignored at her side.

“Entrapta, go get Darla!” she screams, and the scientist’s head whips up. Her eyes widen as she takes in the men with their weapons and the scowling clone for the first time, and Catra can see the internal struggle between saving herself and her new playthings. Scooping them up, she darts past, swinging over the fat man who makes an anemic grab for her. 

One of the clone’s eyes narrow, the lead one, and in three easy steps, he moves across the space to backhand the cowering man sharply, as two others dart after the escaping princess. 

“Are you incapable of doing the smallest task to prove yourself worthy of Prime’s light?” Sneering, he turns to direct that look at Catra. “No matter. It is no mystery that they have been communicating with someone on their ship. Pity she’s revealed that it was merely one other person.” Edging away, Catra glares balefully at him, moving to crouch over Adora. Dropping down, she presses her ear to Adora’s chest. She doesn’t normally need to, but Adora’s heartbeat is so slow and soft, her breathing so shallow. Tears bite at her eyes, sting. No, no no _no…_

“What IS this stuff? It’s going to _kill her_!” Catra yells, her voice cracking at the word, her claws clutching Adora’s limp body so tightly. Sundar frowns, looking over from where he’s being helped up by two of the local men. 

“It is harmless. At worst, she’ll sleep it off for a day.” he says, dismissively, as if Catra can’t feel how weak and fragile her beloved is, this sleep deeper than sleep. One of the men snorts and gives the limp blonde a dark look.

“Nothing lost if it does kill her,” he says, and Catra screams, leaping at him. This time, unfortunately, his friends were expecting it, and there’s a sharp shock in her side that makes her spine tense and jerk before sending her crashing to the ground. 

“Now, now, Brother Lunedan,” the lead clone says, his voice slipping into that slimy sing song tone that was so reminiscent of Prime, “You know that while these criminals have caused so much suffering, it is not the will of Prime to be vengeful when he can be benevolent.”

Catra laughs, only to feel another jolt of electricity, causing her to start coughing mid chuckle. Her ribs ache, and her back twinges down to her tail. Whatever setting that stunner was on, these people weren’t messing around. 

“You fucking idiots, don’t listen to him, Prime is _dead_. He’s been dead for months!” she manages to get out, and there’s the sound of shuffling as one of the shopkeeper’s expressions turn ugly and he has to be held back. “Dead and gone,” she says, slowly, keeping her eyes on Sundar. “Whatever these vat babies are telling you, there’s nobody on the throne.” 

Sundar shakes his head, and rests a calming hand on the angry man’s shoulder. “Oh, Catra.” he says, his voice sad and thoughtful.

“Do not blame her, Brother Sundar,” the lead clone says, prim and proper. “She was offered every opportunity by our benevolent lord, and still she scorned him. Fighting him at every turn. She is incapable of understanding the greater picture.” Kneeling down, he cups under her chin and before she can lash out, the other two are over, holding her arms, tight, vicious.

“You must stop fighting this. You broke rule after rule and still, still you are allowed to live, Catra.” the Clone says, and in this his perfect, smooth persona slips into something more vicious, less controlled. 

One of the reasons Catra was able to accept the clones as being individuals was she saw it during her captivity. Prime worked hard, yes he did, to churn out his perfect little soldiers, his servants, his spies, but they changed. They became _individuals_ , even if he didn’t want them to. And this one was sounding very familiar. Taking her back to the aggressive policing of her contact with Glimmer. Her eyes narrow. 

“I thought you went down on the Glove…” she says, her voice low, and there’s a twitch in the clone’s white lips as he slowly stands.

“Many of us escaped She-Ra’s final act of debasement towards Prime’s glorious flagship.” the rage slips away. No, Catra recognises this, it’s still there, but it’s reached the level where it burns cold. “But you didn’t think your little Rebellion could take down an empire of a thousand generations? No, Prime lives, Little Sister. Perhaps not in the way he once did, but he endures.” 

It had been too easy, really. Catra should have known better, because if Etheria was still writhing and struggling to integrate Horde and Rebels after only, what, two generations of conquest, how deep did the rot go in the galaxy at large? How did she step on that ship and think somehow the rest of space would have gladly embraced this new life, this new freedom? Some people find power in their chains, because at least they’re higher up than someone else. A year ago, Catra might have even been one of these men, fighting tooth and claw to eke out her own little fiefdom, should the Princesses have won. The men hauling her friends up even as she struggles against the iron grip of two clones twice her weight.

“Get away from them!” she snarls, and a hand comes up to slam her head back down so hard, her fangs cut her tongue. Ignoring the smarmy clone at her face, the rules lover who delighted, she remembers, in catching her out, she turns her baleful gaze at Sundar.

“So, what, this whole shop was a front? All your stories lies?” At that, the man looks surprised, and a couple of the others laugh. Shaking his head, Sundar drops down to a knee. A motion, of course, smoothed out by the magical healing of the woman he’s betrayed and left barely breathing on his floor. 

“Catra, this is my life. My people. My world. The rebellion did far more harm than good. Disruptive. It harmed so many good Denebrians, and for what? To allow criminals and thugs to walk free and hurt those who have brought nothing but prosperity and leadership? Foolishness. You children seem like good children as well, young miss. Even Adora. I’m not doing this to harm you, I am doing so to _help_ you. To guide you, like I could not do for my own granddaughter.” 

“What the fuck does this possibly have to do with your granddaughter?” Catra spits out, the words tasting of iron from her bleeding tongue, spraying dots of pink across the dusty floor. Sundar sighs, and stands back up.

“Her folly in following the rebellion lead to her death,” he says, sadly, and Catra’s ears pin back. She tries to thrash, but the clones above her are taking no changes. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about that. I lost people in the war too, we all did,” she says, “But helping the enemy isn’t going to get her back.”

Sundar gives a familiar dismissive wave and benevolent smile. 

“Oh no, the war did not kill her. I fear the correction we tried did so. But I have great confidence that even a mind like yours can see the light, Catra. If I cannot hope for a better generation, more wise, properly taught, what is even the point?” Sundar turns to the lead clone.

“You do believe the current chips are safe, yes?” he asks, and Catra’s vision goes red.

Catra’s nights are full of nightmares like this. Hands all over her, touching her, holding her down. Unable to move, unable to fight. Screaming until her voice gives out, or sometimes unable to scream at all. Waiting for the inevitable pain. The pain in the dreams is agonizing, so strong she feels like it will rend her soul from her body. And still, she can’t move, can’t escape. 

Nights like that, Adora can’t even touch her, the least hint of someone else grabbing her enough to set her off. She curls around Catra, just barely apart. Letting her sob it out, and waiting until she can breathe. Some nights, Catra can’t wake up. The pain, the green, the drowning, the hands and the voices last on and on. She comes to with Adora shaking her, face pale and panicked. 

Perfuma has given her things to help with the nightmares, because they made it hard to sleep. But even at their worst, _they’re still not as horrible as the real thing._ Catra’s mind whites out, and she can taste more blood, and ozone, and now more weight is being piled on her, and her fur is standing on end. She can only hear snippets of words, and nothing is sticking, nothing is staying except panic and terror. She’s sobbing, her body thrashing even as she’s held in place. She can’t go through this again. There’s shouting.

“Keep her down! Brother Sundar, get the drug!”

“She bit me!”

“Careful with the boy, he has promise.”

“Someone get them!”

“Who brought something strong enough for the She-Ra?”

“Hold her still! Nebal, give me your rope!” 

Flashes of images in her head, the bathes, the droning chants, the darkness, the blinding light…Dark hands grabbing Glimmer, hauling her up and jerking her head roughly down by her sparkling hair. A bow snapped across a knee, arrows tossed into a corner. Laughing faces as a man slaps a bound and limp Adora across the cheek, drool staining her cheek, a bloom of red in a handprint on her cheek. 

And in the swirling center of it all, green eyes, indifferent cruel eyes. Did Prime _really_ die? Was Adora wrong? 

“Hurry, we cannot waste time, this must be completed before that disgusting spider of a girl returns.”

“Where are the chips? Someone inform Brother Starnak to hurry!”

“Ugh, I think the boy is starting to rouse. Sundar, I thought you gave them all a full dose!”

“It was an imprecise science, Nebal. I could not risk too much. I believe he might be trained, he seems a good boy with the wrong sort.”

“Brother, where are those _chips?_ ”

“Sister, actually…”

All clones have the same body. There’s no reason, really, for Prime to have sounded different than Hordak, or Hordak to sound different than Kadroh. There’s no reason for Catra to have recognized the cadence of the clone who mocked her in the Glove in the one in front of her. And there’s no real reason for her to have jerked her head up at a voice that’s really very close to every other clone’s. Close, but not the same. Through the press of bodies over her and the scramble around the room, Abby’s pants, with her stupid, Catra imitating slashes, can be seen, right before the lead clone doubles over at her kidney punch. There’s a snarl and a familiar thrum of magic passes through her body and Melog appears, mid leap, mane out and jagged like teeth, fury red. 

The whole tableau lasts a heartbeat as men stare, frozen in confusion, and then all is chaos. Melog bowls over the clones on Catra’s back, and there’s a satisfying scream as one of them meets their teeth. Catra struggles to her feet, trying to catch her breath, wishing Perfuma had ever given her advice on how to deal with panic attacks and triggers when the trigger is an actual room full of people who want to see you chipped. Arms trembling, she shakes her head, blinking as Melog corners two clones, snarling. 

The lead clone is scrabbling with Abby, her combat clumsy and undeveloped but her sheer fire keeping the snarling villain on the ropes. Behind her, Rupert and Kadroh stumble through the back room curtain, Rupert clutching a staff that Catra realises is one of his mops with the head gone, Kadroh with a rolling pin. A man with more sense of presence than most darts at them with one of the shock polls, and Kadroh jerks back in shock, flinging the culinary instrument at his face. It lands with a satisfying crunch, and he goes down.

Abby screams and drops to her knees as she’s hit by another shock device, this one hidden on the lead clone somewhere. Instead of pressing his advantage, though, he turns to his followers and barks out “Take the She-Ra! The rest are unimportant!” 

That wakes Catra from her trauma-stupor like a cold splash of water to her face, and she spins to see two men lifting Adora up. One drops her legs immediately, and the other foolish idiot decides that this is the act he wants on his tombstone, and goes down to Catra’s claws and teeth. 

The feeling of magic suffuses through her, and crouching over Adora, Catra strokes her cheek, praying that she might be rousing, but she’s so far gone, it’s too much, too close to the past. A flash of colour catches the corner of her eyes and there’s another yelp as the butcher screams, “Get it off of me!” A giggle, and the sounds of chaos seem to be going in their favour. A man goes down to Rupert’s mop handle, and Melog, muzzle dripping green ichor, snarls at two more attempting to net the alien. The butcher is struggling with.. Something? It’s like he’s fighting a rainbow badger, and it takes Catra a minute to register that he's tussling with the little spy squirrel-thing from earlier. 

The lead clone is snarling for order and discipline, but the attack is quickly becoming a rout, and the various loyalists are slowly backing away to try and escape via the shop’s front. Their progress is blocked, though, by what seems to be a massive stone wall. That slowly bends down, and peers into the room. This one, Catra remembers, was also from the Shades, a being of rock who stood out even in the weirdness of the denizens of that dark undercity.

“I would kindly ask you to refrain from leaving,” comes a deep, serious voice. “I have no wish to inadvertently cause you harm, so please restrain yourself.” Yelling and wild eyed, one of the men shoves a shock poll at the unexpected obstacle, only to have to snap and send him screaming to the floor as the discharge runs through his body. He looks still as death, and Catra honestly wouldn’t care if he was. 

Kadroh has given up entirely at the whole idea of combat and is collecting their friends from the floor, scooping Bow and Glimmer up as easily as if they’re the sacks of flour he insisted on bringing on Darla. Rupert is now with Abby, fending off the lead clone and dodging his attacks as she shudders on the floor from a second, well placed shock. 

“Disgusting! Look at what the rebellion has done to your dignity, Brothers,” the lead clone growls, his eyes wild with rage. “You’re painted up and primped like pets! You forget yourselves!”

 _“I forget nothing!”_ Rupert snaps, swatting aside the stunner and glaring at his former twin.

“Brothers, please, show courage,” Sundar calls with a quavering voice. He stands, small and lost looking, abandoned among the consequences of his betrayal. Catra’s eyes snap to him and her claws flex out. She doesn’t leave Adora, but her voice cuts through the noise and catches his attention. 

_“Why?”_

Sundar looks old, old and small and lost at the question. His lips part, and smack, and his fingers toy with his rings as his amber gaze drops down. 

“You.. you must understand. Everything I’ve done.. It was only for your own good.” he says, his voice barely over a whisper. “Only for your own good…”

“Oh, bravo, we do so love when people make choices for us, don’t we?” 

The huge stone golem of a being at the door shifts at that voice, and in slips Alex. At this point, Catra isn’t even surprised to see the pale one. His spy is skillfully dealing with men twice their size and the rock being was also from the Shades, why shouldn’t the weird white leech be here? She laughs, sharp and low, at the insanity of it all. 

Colour blooms on Sundar’s cheeks at the sight of the new interloper, and his ancient hands clench into impotent fists. For the first time, true fury touches the old Denebrian’s face. 

“You disgusting slug! Leave this place at once!” he shouts. “I will not have my home sullied by your vile presence!” Alex scoffs. They’re dressed differently than before, the loose flowing blouse and pants full of ruffles, broad sun hat and sunset coloured tinted glasses almost making the pale one look like they’re on vacation instead of a rescue mission. The pale pinks and whites and violets remind her of Glimmer.The Denebrians press back against the walls, as if they could die at a touch from the leech, terror and anger in their faces. At least, the ones Melog, Rupert and the little spy hadn’t downed, which was a quickly shrinking cohort.

“Oh, Sundar, I knew you were still in touch with these ugly vat bastards but I admit I never thought you’d manage to cause trouble with that.” Alex says. A few more pale ones shuffle into the room, moving to help Kadroh with the limp Etherians, and Catra jumps to her feet as one attempts to approach Adora.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she growls, and the woman, also wearing shades that hide her ruby eyes, holds her hands up and backs off. Alex sighs, looking over to Catra. 

“Still so suspicious, yet you kiddies managed to get caught in this trap. I’d say you need to learn who’s your friend, but that’s really my fault.” Leaving the furious Sundar, they move over to Catra, tugging something out on a thin gold chain. “I’m just as suspicious, kitty, and it’s hard to know who to trust.” On the end is a small golden pendant, almost the size of a charm. It twinkles as the light hits it and the tiny ruby in it. Even from this distance, the shape is unmistakable.

“She-Ra’s crown?” Catra breathes, and Alex flashes her another one of those terrifying, tooth filled smiles.

“Welcome to the Rebellion, dear. Sorry if we aren’t what you expected.”

The other pale ones follow Alex’s lead, showing their own crowns, each on a delicate necklace. The spy gives Catra a broad smile and proudly holds out their wrist to show theirs on a bracelet. Sundar’s gaze is dark, bitter, and he gestures at them, turning to Catra.

“You see? You see what this Rebellion of yours leads to?” he says, his voice breaking. “Monsters! Monsters pretending to be as worthy as men! Brother of Prime, end this madness and take these infidels down!” 

But when they turn to where he was, the lead clone has vanished, leaving Rupert and Abby groaning on the ground and their other Brothers slowly bleeding out into the dust. At the sight, Sundar finally breaks, falling to his knees, weeping. 

The rest of the scowling and fearful men were tied up by the pale ones, though Alex admits there’s not much they can actually do beyond that.

“The Rebellion doesn’t have as much power as we’d like here in Gorn, but I can’t leave the city I grew up in. For, well, various reasons. Or Denebria, really. Loo-kee here tells me they’re in charge of entire worlds elsewhere, but Denebria is our home. I’d rather see them win here than run.” they explain, squatting beside Catra as the bound and gagged Sundar glowers at them. At their name, Loo-kee waves their hand cheerfully as they tighten the ropes around a scowling man.

“Alex was kinda worried you came from a Rebellion world and didn’t know better, but we never expected someone from Etheria this far out!” they chirp. There’s a groan and Bow shifts in the chair one of the pale ones has propped him up in. Everyone turns to him, and Alex smiles.

“Good, looks like Sundar didn’t actually kill anyone,” they say flippantly, and Catra frowns.

“Well, he only had one cup. Adora had three,” she growls, stroking Adora’s pale cheek. It was a sight she never wanted to see again in her life, and it’s all she can do to keep from screaming. 

“Your pretty blonde bodyguard here is apparently the She-Ra, so I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Alex notes, but their voice is more gentle now. “I have to admit, that’s the real surprise. She.. matches what I’ve been told, though. Slight and strong, but able to change due to magic. A lot of people here don’t even _believe_ in magic, you know.” Their eyes twinkle. “But don’t worry, kitty, we know better.”

“Catra,” Catra says, without any bite. “Don’t you guys have, I don’t know, an antidote for this drug?” Like they’re on swivels, everyone’s head turns to Sundar, even the impassive monolith in the doorway. Loo-kee tugs down his gag, and he glares at the room. 

“I have no interest in discussing anything with you monsters.” he snaps at Alex, spittle flying. Catra narrows her eyes, but it’s Melog who gets into Sundar’s face, snarling in a way she hasn’t seen since that one, bad morning. The old man pales, and scrabbles back, eyes wide. 

“Get your beast off of me!” he shouts, and Catra laughs.

“Ask Melog yourself, you idiot. They’re a _person_ , not a _pet._ ” 

_Give us the antidote! I will not see my friends suffer any longer!_ Melog growls, their stained fangs inches from Sundar’s face. Catra just smiles with approval, but Alex looks confused, looking between her and Melog.

“Oh, sorry, only I seem to understand them,” she says, before pulling out her earpiece, flicking it on, and tossing it to the pale one. He catches it easy in time to hear Melog’s very furious emphasis on the alien’s distaste for anyone who would desire to steal the freedom of their friends. 

“Huh. Unexpected,” was all Alex says, before pausing.

“Kitty, are you expecting someone, because somebody’s losing her mind over your coms right now. Something about a Darla?”

Catra blinks, and then snatches the earpiece back. She’d forgotten about Entrapta.

“Entrapta, what’s up?” she says, before looking sharply to Alex and then jerking her head towards Sundar. Getting her meaning, the leech nods to go and take over interrogating Sundar with Melog. 

“Oh good, I was getting worried when I couldn’t get through to you guys. None of the clones are here, but they left a note saying they’d be back?” Entrapta’s voice is a little too loud, as usual, but Catra’s so grateful to hear she made it unmolested to the ship she doesn’t turn it down.

“Yeah, right, they’re in rough shape but here.” Kadroh waves his hand from where he was helping a battered Abby up, and Rupert gives a curt nod. 

“Ah, is that Sister Entrapta?” Rupert asks, wiping a streak of green blood from his cheek with a magenta handkerchief. He reaches for his earpiece. “Apologies, Sister, we had to shut off our coms due to the interference.” he informs her. “Melog insisted we go find the others in case they were in danger, and I agreed. I hope you were not concerned.”

“Oh no, you’re a big boy, Rupert, I know you guys can take care of yourselves,” Entrapta says, unable to see how battered the three clones were from their rescue mission. “I’m just pulling out with Darla now, apparently they expected us to pay for the berth, but it didn’t take too long to convince their system we already had.” There’s a sly laugh. “The tech is so advanced here but their security systems are completely basic! I could do so much better. Do you guys need me to punch through a wall again?”

“No, no walls!” Catra cuts in, eyes wide. She has no idea what that means but it can’t be good. “We’ll meet you… shit, I’ll figure this out and call you back, okay?”

“Okay, oh, can you grab my tech and the toys and maybe some extra toys when you guys leave?” Entrapta asks, and Catra snorts.

“Never change.” she says, and there’s a pause.

“I’ll assume that’s a yes. Thanks, Catra!”

Closing her eyes for a moment and sighing, she glances around the place. “About how long until we get company, Alex? People must have seen you guys coming. Even if not someone’s going to be wondering about the big guy…”

“Rokkon.” the granite-faced hulk in the doorway informs, voice level. 

“ _Really?_ Wondering about Rokkon in the door. His ass is hanging out into the street.” 

“Little busy here, kitty,” calls the pale one from where they’re negotiating with a very angry, fearful Sundar. Catra’s head jerks up as she hears a groan. Bow’s stirring in the grasp on one of the pale ones, who gives her a thumbs up as they rub his back. Glimmer’s still out of it, but her colour looks much better. Catra’s gaze drops to Adora, and she rubs over her back, trying to keep calm. Even a grunt, or a change in breathing, would have been very welcome, but she gets nothing. Adora feels as still as a corpse, a terrifying comparison her brain can’t stop making. 

Loo-kee hops over, sitting beside Adora with a smile and a tap on their nose.

“Don’t worry about unexpected visitors, no one sees us if we don’t want them to!” they tell her, cheerfully. Catra’s ear twitches, and she raises an eyebrow. 

“You telling me your magic is good enough to cloak the building, pipsqueak?” she asks, bemused. It was barely good enough to hide from _her._ Loo-kee kicks their legs and flicks their tail. 

“No, I don’t use magic, I’m just sneaky. It’s kinda my people’s whole thing, really, and I’m one of the best!” The pride in those words is strong enough to bounce pebbles off of. Catra doesn’t bother to hide her scoff. 

“Please, that might work on these people, but I’m from Etheria. Planet full of magic. So much magic the First Ones had to build stuff to try to focus how much damn magic there was. Plus, I’m _dating_ the personification of magic. I know magic, you prismatic little ferret.” In fact, if Catra takes a moment, she can feel it. The warmth of magic, surrounding them, filling the room like the first breath of spring. 

Which gives her a thought.

“Melog?”

The alien’s earspikes perk up and they turn to her. 

_Yes? I believe we are making progress_ , they say.

“Good. I was thinking though, do you remember the blockade run?” Melog sits up primly and smiles. 

_Of course. Ah, shall I go help Entrapta?_ they ask, their nebulous tail flicking. 

“That’s the idea. Might be easier for her to bring Darla to us than us to try to get back to Darla. But only if you think you can…” Catra adds, worry tingling at the base of her skull. She has to suggest this. As a team, not a master. Melog’s been doing great, better than great. But there’s always the possibility of her going too far. Melog smiles, and slinks over, pressing against her and the inert Adora, purring deeply. 

_It would be simple. Even with her increased size, Darla is not difficult to hide. Plus, I can get there faster alone._ Catra nods, cupping their cheeks and brushing their noses together. 

“Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she says, her voice soft, private for just the both of them. Melog nuzzles over her cheek. 

_I feel the same way._ Melog murmurs. They smile and melt away out of sight, a flick of the curtain the only hint to normal senses on their leaving. 

Catra looks over to Adora, and gently cleans the few strands of hair clinging to her forehead, kissing the pale skin. “I’ll be right back, love,” she murmurs, wondering if somewhere, Adora can hear her. Turning, she stands with the wrath of kings and gods, carefully popping out her claws. Strolling over, she looks over at Alex, the pale one still in heated negotiations with a stony Sundar. “Move over, sunshine, let a professional handle this.”

One of Alex’s snow-white brows pops up, but they move back a little. “Whatever you say, Catra,” they say with a warm, toothy smile. “For some reason, my winning personality just isn’t doing it for him.” Catra rolls her eyes, and crouches down. Sundar’s expression is cautious, but she can see the hope in his eyes. 

“Catra, please inform this monster that there is nothing I can do to change or expedite your friends through their incapacitation,” he says primly, shooting Alex a glare. Catra smiles. 

“I get it, you’re not a drugs guy, you’re a toys guy.” she says, glancing at her claws. She’s sure he’s nodding along. “I believe you, I do. In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m not a ‘Rebellion’ sort of girl. They’re a bunch of idiots, really.” At this, Sundar sits up a little straighter, and she can feel the room grow quiet as everyone takes that in. Abby in particular looks confused, though that might be a concussion. Catra catches the old man’s amber eyes and smiles. He smiles back, eager and bright. 

“Then.. then you understand! The.. the glory of Prime, the benefits he brings to us all!” he says, eyes still red from his earlier despair. So desperate for any crumb of reassurance. Catra’s ear flicks, and she snorts, before laughing so long and hard that Sundar’s delicate hope wilts in the face of it. Wiping away a tear, she smirks.

“Prime’s benefits? Oh, I was never here for that, old man. I just don’t see any problem with what you did to take down an enemy. Ruthless. Efficient. In fact, you didn’t go far enough.” Sundar’s cheeks go green as her sharp words.

“But… it was necessary. It was important…” Sundar babbles. “I was merely doing what had to be done. You must realise...”

“I wasn’t in the _Rebellion_ for the war, Sundar." Catra cuts him short like a knife to the throat. "I’m not _like_ these nice boys and girls here that have tied you up and stopped you from killing people but believe, for some fucking reason, there should be _rules_ . That they should be _better_ than you.” Catra shakes her head, looking at the puzzled pale ones, the little squirrel with their worried eyes, Alex’s thoughtful expression.

“No. I was on the other side. The side that didn’t _have_ rules. I didn’t care how much blood was under my claws to get things done. Didn’t care who I broke as long as I managed to keep from getting pulled under myself.” Catra glances over at Bow and Glimmer, and the pale ones watching her with caution that hints of distrust. “It’s funny you said that we were good people, good kids because these guys are.” She gestures widely at the men and women Sundar called monsters, before leaning in to drop her voice to a gravely whisper. “And I’m really, really _not._ ” Sundar shudders at her wink. 

“So appealing to my better nature about saving the universe? Making the world a better place? Following a grand, wonderful plan? Not for me. I’m not here to save the world. I don’t give a shit about the universe. I’m here to save my friends. My love. And no matter what excuse you give me, what good intentions you’re going to spit out, it will. Not. Matter! Because you hurt them. _You hurt her,_ Sundar.” Catra takes a breath, trying to pull herself back from an edge that’s red and bloody and so very tempting. She gives Sundar a grim little smile, and carries on. “I’ll be honest, this isn’t even an interrogation anymore. I don’t give a fuck if you personally know how to reverse this drug or not. All I care is about making you _pay_ for what you’ve done to _her!_ ”

Sundar swallows hard as the last words are spit into his face with the fraction of rage Catra feels safe letting show. His eyes flick to his side at someone, then back at her, almost too fast to see. Bingo. Rupert moves past her, more on the uptake than she gave him credit for, and is already separating out the man Sundar looked at, impassive to his kicks. Catra taps Sundar's nose with a claw, and nods, letting her sinister smile widen.

“Right. So, shall we try this again, old man?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if you read this and then saw a change, I posted this and then decided I needed to rework the final speech a little for flow, as well as fix a continuity error, so if you're TRULY fast and are surprised to see a note here at a later point, please give the fic a quick re-read
> 
> ~~~~
> 
> Whoops, forgot to link to [ the image I did for Alex of what they're wearing this chapter](https://twitter.com/pseudandry12/status/1348383948687220743?s=20), courtesy of a commission from their creator! I'll probably pop this in next chapter too, but here you are


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't check the end notes before you've read the chapter!

The hard part, really, was disposing of the men after the interrogation. Oh, they weren’t dead. They weren’t even hurt, really. If they had been, that would have been pretty simple to deal with. Shove them in a corner and let people find them when they rot. But Catra never relished death for its own sake, and the difficulty was ferreting away squirming, angry prisoners who didn’t want to be thrown into cupboards or under beds. Besires, she could already tell she was on thin ice with this new Rebellion. Nothing different from home, then. 

Sundar and his compatriots, particularly a man called Nebulak, quickly gave up the particulars of the recovery formula, though Catra still didn’t entirely trust it to be safe. It was easy to be tough until you really, truly believed you could die. And if they, perhaps, saw a hint of Catra’s old self, the side of her who had nothing to lose? That was their own fault. They brought her right back to that place the moment they threatened to take Adora from her life. 

Glimmer was still a slumped, drooling mess, though she was moving, at least, in her sleep, and Adora was dead to the world, but Bow was already starting to rouse, abet in a drunken sort of way. 

“I don’t know what any of these things are…” Catra mutters to herself, as Rupert returns from getting the last of their assailants hidden in Sundar’s house. It’s a bit of a mess in the back, and Catra wonders if any of his  _ real  _ family visited anymore. Rupert holds out his hand for the formula, and frowns, before passing it along to Kadroh. Their unofficial chef can only shrug. "I could combine these, Brother, but I would have to know what they are."

“Sadly, brother Catra, I don’t remember any of these either,” Rupert confirms. “Perhaps our local saviors might help?” Right, the other reason the local Rebellion was giving the Etherians a bit of side eye was the fact they had clones of their own. Loo-kee doesn’t seem shocked, and Alex looks like they’re prepared to feign indifference at anything bizarre, but the rest of the pale ones eye the equally pale clones with open suspicion. 

“Medicines aren’t my wheelhouse, kids, but we’re not without friends outside of the Shades,” Alex notes, refusing the proffered list with a languid wave. 

“Which is great, but we’re on borrowed time before the army or the guards or whatever you people have here notice something’s amiss.” Catra says, glancing back at Adora. She’s resting in Kadroh's arms. Catra was grateful for that. As much as she appreciates the new rebellion here, she doesn't know them. The clones are the only ones that can touch Adora right now without triggering some ugly reactions from her. 

“They aren’t far,” one of the other pale ones says. “We can get there in, what, five minutes?” Catra hisses through her teeth. It would have to do, though. She’d really rather be back on the ship. Away. Bringing Adora somewhere _ safe. _

“And you can cloak us?” she says, her gaze dropping to Loo-kee. The small being rolls their eyes. 

“I told you, it’s not my magic doing it,” they argue, squeaking like an angry marmot. “Rokkon, you gotta show her. She’s safe…” 

The stony man’s impassive expression doesn’t change to Catra, and he has no real scent at all, except for a hint of ozone and some weird burnt inorganic tinge that she can’t place. He gives away nothing. But somehow, Loo-kee seems to understand something she doesn’t and holds up their hands.

“Okay, fine, fine, have it your way. You’re so stubborn.” 

“I am cautious. But yes, you must follow us closely, and you will be properly hidden. Guarded.” Catra snorts, rolling her eyes. Even without magic, she's pretty certain she can move without being seen. 

“Don’t worry about me. You just lead the way, boulder.”

* * *

The winding alleys of Gorn are confusing and tight, and Catra noticed many of the pale ones peeling away before they arrived at their destination.

"Now that the worst of it is over, they have their own jobs to get back to," Alex explains, trotting alongside Catra. "Rebellion doesn't pay the bills."

Catra snorts to herself, but doesn't say anything more until they reach the back alley door that appears to be their destination. Catra's keen eyes spot a few lines that look too deliberate to be casual wear and tear, and, squinting, it resolves into a wide M with some rays. Symbol of the rebellion, as long as you were looking for it. Loo-kee sits up on their tail and knocks briskly with their knuckles, a quick tattoo Catra doubts she could emulate without practice. 

"Shave and a haircut." the squirrel explains, which means absolutely nothing to her or the clones. 

Abby adjusts her grip on the unconscious Glimmer and Rupert cradles Bow protectively as the door cracks open, showing two men and a woman who were Denebrian born by appearance. They also looked a lot younger than the counter-revolutionary shopkeepers. One with glasses and carefully locked hair that reminds Catra of Lonnie gives Loo-kee a smile. 

"Did you get to them?" he asks, and Catra chuckles, wondering if the little rodent forgot to make them visible once more. 

"Yes, but they're drugged." Loo-kee explains, frowning. The second young man, paler than the first with a lot of freckles and a messy poof of hair straightens up at that. The woman, the tallest of the three, quickly steps aside and gestures at Loo-kee to come in. She reminds Catra a bit of Netossa, same dark complexion and near-white hair, but the golden eyes are distinct and very Denebrian. They widen in shock as she suddenly notices Abby, apparently visible now, looming a few feet away and holding a limp body in her arms. She reaches for something at her hip and Alex jumps forward, waving frantically.

"They're with us, Astra ! Do you really think a Prime clone would have their hair dyed?" he gasps out. The woman gives Abby a hard glare, but allows her in. Rupert and Kadroh follow under equal scrutiny. The two remaining pale ones and Alex trail after, and she hears one of the locals ask "So, is this the She-Ra, then?" Ears perking, Catra carefully enters the tight space. They appear to be gesturing to Glimmer. She’ll never tell Sparkles, the Queen is already unbearably smug. 

"No, this one here is the She-Ra." Catra says, pointing to Adora. The trio of Denebrians turn towards her, though she can’t tell if they’re surprised by her answer or just  _ her _ . Even in the Shades, no one looked like she does. The tight space looks like a mixture between Hordak's old lab, Entrapta's workshop and one of the chop-shop doctors in the Horde that the injured got sent to for the minimum amount of care needed to get them back fighting. It stinks of disinfectant and metal. Catra flashes the three of them a broad, fanged smile. 

"And I would be her girlfriend, so if any of you are planning a double cross tell me now so I don't have to gut you later and waste my time." she adds, and one of the remaining pale ones murmurs "She's seriously scary." as if they weren't a toothy nightmare themself.

"Don't worry, we don't have any love for Prime or his sycophants," the young man with glasses says. "Do you have a sample of what she was drugged with?"

"No, but they provided a possible antidote…" Rupert explains, holding out the paper. Kadroh is looking over some odd thing made of glass that's dripping some sort of fluid into another glass, and puffy hair lightly smacks his hand away when he reaches out to touch it, Adora slumped in the crook of his arm like a baby. She's even drooling. It would be cute if Catra wasn't so concerned right now.

Abby looks over to Catra, pain visible on her features, as well as some greenish purple bruising starting to show. She turns to Astra and says, meekly, "From the banners and, um, enthusiastic writing on the spire, I am surprised to discover that people are apparently still supporting Prime?"

"Especially since he is dead," Kadroh says. "Oh, is that a retort?" Catra isn't sure who retorted what, yet.

"Please don't touch anything," Puffy whines, as Kadroh reaches out a second time. "This is all very delicate!" 

"Oh, sure, people were very enthusiastic at first," Glasses mutters, looking over the list of ingredients Rupert handed him. "Until people like us started pointing out that you can't just go back to the same old rotten system except with a different person on top. It's not enough to say 'Down with the Horde' and then act like them. It got ugly."

"The Shadesdwellers and surface Denebrians fought hard together for freedom, and then we were told 'good job, now go away and stop bothering us'," Alex spits out with a bitter chuckle. "No freedom for us."

"Mmm, and anyone who said otherwise was treated like a traitor of Gorn." Astra confirms. "At first it was just a bit of social pressure. 'Stop rocking the boat, everything's fixed so why do you have to be so difficult'. But now people are starting to openly say stuff like 'well, it wasn't so bad under Prime' and 'we need more strong leadership to show the monsters and freaks their place.'" She spits on the floor, and Puffy gives her a sharp look. "Oh, come off it, our last visitors were oozing, a little spit is fine, Bexel."

"Good news, this does seem like it's an antidote," Glasses says, adjusting his frames. "From this I'm going to guess they used marswamp weed and fijoria." Catra shrugs. Patting the only clear spot in the room, a run down looking operating table, he nods at Kadroh. "Pop her up here. We need to get some fluids in her first to keep her from getting kidney damage."

"Is that something we have to worry about for all of them?" Abby asks, going even more pale. Glasses gives Glimmer a look and then shakes his head. 

"No, as long as they didn't have too heavy a dose. Pinkie looks fine, and I'm going to guess handsome over there took the least. And I suppose it didn't work on your metabolism," he adds, eying Catra. Catra wrinkles her nose, tapping it.

"The scent was too strong, so I didn't take any. Got lucky, if they'd put mint in there we'd all have been screwed." Glasses chuckles a little, but then he’s back to business. "Bexel, get some zoranus extract and see if we have any doxatrine left." Puffy nods and starts rummaging through the various inset drawers around the room. "Rokkon, can you grab the crash cart from my bedroom? We had to shove it there last week for an inspection." The monolith of a man nods and carefully crouches down and somehow slots himself into a tight hall. Loo-kee doesn't wait for instructions and is clambering over the equipment to grab something from an upper shelf to pass down to Glasses. Alex and the two remaining pale ones, a man and a woman, murmur in the corner, watching with impassive faces that Catra is only just starting to understand mask real concern. 

Finally Glasses addresses the clones, looking between them. "Are you both fine with holding them a little longer? We're a bit tight for space here." he asks, and Rupert nods for them both. It was an understatement, the room seemed about big enough for three people and there were a dozen now. 

Glasses goes to start entering something in an antique of a computer. The large screen above the keyboard is smashed, and a smaller one is roughly wired into the wall. Catra gestures at it with a claw, trying to keep her mind off of Adora, lest she freak out and interfere with the work these back alley doctors were doing.

"What happened with that? You have a mule for a patient?" she asks. The screen looks like someone took a bat to it. Glasses' lips quirk into a smile, but it's the woman, Astra, who answers.

"You didn't have Prime broadcasts on your planet?" Catra stiffens at that, looking at the screen and then quickly away.

"Not like that, no." She'd noticed a screen in each room in Sundar's shop, beyond the huge one in the front wall, but hadn't thought anything about it. Guess Prime wanted to make sure no one escaped listening to his stupid, smug voice.

Astra frowns. "The screens are… they  _ were _ two way. We didn't want to be watched." She explains, fiddling with the stick at her side. Catra wonders if it's another shock device. "Coronus needs the house network though, so after I took it out he fixed up something to use that we can't get spied on with."

Rokkon returns with a complex piece of machinery under one of his broad arms. He looks around, and then gestures for Alex and his friends to clear a spot, after giving Catra a look and deciding, most likely, she wasn't worth the fight. Glasses, or Coronus she assumes, gives him a warm smile before going to pull out some chords from the side, plugging them into the wall.

"She-Ra have any allergies?" he asks, and Catra blinks.

"What the fuck are allergies?" she asks, confused. She thinks she might have heard the word before, but can't place it. Bexel turns mid-measuring and gives a little laugh-snort that reminds her of Entrapta.

"That sounds like a no, Coronus." he says. "Lucky woman."

"Stuff she can't eat or touch," Astra fills in. Catra shakes her head. Of the two of them, she's the one with the sensitive stomach. Adora was basically made of iron even before she gained all her magical healing junk. 

"Good." Coronus says, pulling out a pair of tubes. Loo-kee hops down and swabs Adora's arm when the man reveals it, and Catra fights against clawing them away from her beloved. Abby spots her discomfort. 

"I know you don't want to trust them, but they seem pretty nice. Reminds me of the lab and Entrapta," the clone says, trying a smile and to sound cheerful. Astra gives the clone a scowl, but the other two don't seem particularly troubled by her words. Or they're too busy to be listening. 

"Yeah, I know. Though Entrapta might not be the best comparison, you know how she can get. Shit, I should contact her. Alex, how far are we from somewhere she could land a … I dunno, mid sized transport ship?" Alex looks up, startled, and frowns to themself. 

"I can get Grace here to arrange something. It won't be ideal, though. And she might be followed." Catra waves away his worries. 

"You guys have your way to keep hidden, and I have mine. Entrapta won't be followed." Alex smiles, and leans over to say something to Grace. It doesn't sound like a different language so much as a very specific and fast dialect of the common tongue they're all speaking. She nods, giving Catra a nervous little salute, and vanishes into another room. The other pale one says something to Alex that would be too low for anyone without her ears to hear. It's slang and doesn't sound flattering. Loo-kee is the one who speaks up, though. 

"Don't say that, Ryan. You know things are tough on other worlds. Not everyone in the Rebellion is going to be tea and cupcakes." Ryan scowls and mutters a few more things, before heading down another branching tight corridor, away from the operating room. Catra turns to the squirrel-person, intrigued. Loo-kee's perched on the table, taping wires to the ghostly pale neck and chest of Adora. 

"You're a slippery little brat, aren't you?" she murmurs to herself. There's more to the imp than she expected. The colourful creature smiles to themself as they work, flicking their tail.

"I travel a lot." they say by way of explanation. Coronus hisses through his teeth as he peers at his screen. Catra's focus immediately goes to him, and her tail slashes so hard she feels it sting as it slams into the cupboards in this tight space.

"What?" she growls, and Coronus doesn't reply. He taps a few things, and the tunes twitch as fluid starts flowing through them, into Adora. Catra stalks over, going to grab Adora's limp, chilly hand. "What's wrong?" 

"Hey, back off, cat girl," Astra starts, but Coronus is already replying. 

"Not...wrong, just not great. Her heart's beating too shallow, and her chemistry is all over the place. I know you guys are aliens, though, and she's She-Ra, but this wouldn't look good on a local." 

"I'm pretty sure the man is from the local moons, you know, before they were destroyed." Bexel says, dodging the now unencumbered Kadroh as the clone tries to observe what he's mixing. "Could you  _ please _ sit down and wait??" he groans, and Kadroh blinks innocently, before backing off a few feet and folding himself into a corner, sitting on the floor.

"No, they're all Etherians, apparently, " Alex says. Astra whistles at that and Bexel looks surprised. Catra flicks her ear. 

“Surprised you’ve even heard of our planet.” Catra says, rubbing her thumb over Adora’s knuckles as she waits for whatever they’re pumping into her to take effect. The commentary about physical chemistry wasn’t reassuring, Adora was near enough to Etherian that no one besides Shadow Weaver and possibly Hordak knew she wasn’t a planet native. She never had any issues with taking the same medicines and nutrition that Lonnie and Kyle did. Catra leans down and murmurs, “C’mon, love, you’ve gone through worse than bad tea.”

“Well, I’ve only ever heard of it because that’s apparently where She-Ra came from, if you ask the Star Sibs,” Bexel says. “There’s a lot of planets out there, though.”

Astra huffs. “ _They_ didn’t take ancient galactic history in school, but I did. Etheria was a lost planet. But everyone assumed Prime just, you know…” She makes a very descriptive ‘fwooooosh’ sound, and Catra was positive without having to look that the woman was making an explosion gesture with her hands. Makes sense. Prime did destroy planets, and she doubts the propaganda would want to correct that misunderstanding about Etheria’s fate. 

“ _ I _ knew Etheria still existed,” Loo-kee notes, their high pitched voice sounding smug.

“Should we be doing the same stuff for the others?” Abby asks, and Catra can hear her rocking back and forth heavily on her boots. “I could hold Glimmer while you stick things on her.”

“Not enough IV outlets to do them all at once. I could maybe do two if I had to, but even then She-Ra here needs all the antidote we can make at first.” Coronus, hissing through his teeth as he taps on something on the machine. 

“What’s their deal, anyway?” Bexel says. “You didn’t tell us we’d be expecting clones, Alex.”

“Believe it or not, I can’t know everything, Bexie-boy.” Alex says, chuckling dryly. “But they came to the rescue quite valiantly.” Astra snorts, an ugly and terse little sound.

“Well, I don’t trust them. Little convenient if you ask me.” she says, and Catra’s done with this. It’s been a long day, far longer than it needs to be, and Adora is hanging on a knife’s edge and most of this new rebellion is terrified of her and she just does  _ not _ need this as well. She can hear Kadroh whimpering, for fuck’s sake.

“I trust them, and frankly, of all you so-called-rebels, I have the biggest reason not to, so suck it up.” she growls out through clenched fangs. Something clatters and Catra can hear and smell Astra getting right into her space. She doesn’t bother looking away from Adora’s pale, still face.

“Really? Because those clones have hurt a lot of people here. Everyone in this damn room knows someone who got chipped, cat girl!”

“Yeah? And I was patient zero,” Catra says, her voice low, flat. “You guys got a chip shoved in your neck? I got held down, screaming around a tube that was forced so far down my throat I thought it would ruin my lungs. Submerged for hours in a vat of electric pain. I got to see my greatest hope and my worst nightmare over and over until it broke me. And the entire time, every single second, people who looked like those guys were doing it to me. It took me months to be able to look at them and not see  _ Him _ . So, yeah, I trust them.” Abby makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and Catra winces as she realises she’s probably said too much in front of the sweet girl. She’ll owe her an explanation later. Reassurance too. She goes on.

“You think there’s some grand elaborate scheme? Some trick? Because let me tell you, if there was, you wouldn’t even be seeing She-Ra right now. We were captured, they had the chips out, it was going to happen all over again and  _ nothing _ was going to stop them except these three. They risked their life in a city that wants them dead to save me, to save HER.” Catra laughs, dry and low. She decides to fling a little rhetoric in. “Fuck, why should I even trust _ you?  _ After all, you look like the people who did this to her…”

“We’re the Rebellion! It’s different…” Astra says, but the fire is slipping from her voice. Catra sniffs, and leans down to press a kiss to Adora’s chilly forehead. She doesn’t smell like death anymore, at least.

“They’re Rebellion too. Anyone can be Rebellion, isn’t that part of what you people are fighting for now?” That seems to hit home, and she can feel the atmosphere change to a sheepish sort of thoughtful silence. “So how about you be nice to the three clones who saved your heroine’s life.”

“Not just us, us and Melog, of course,” Rupert adds, pedantic as usual. Catra feels a smile flicker over her lips. 

“Right, you three and Melog.” she agrees. Bexel passes over some liquid to Coronus, and the tube is slotted into the machine. It gurgles down, and they all wait for a tense minute.

Catra sees it first. It would be impossible for her not to, she’s staring at Adora like she’s the only thing in the room. She is, really, the only thing that matters. Catra loves Bow, she loves Glimmer, and she’s grown fond of the clones. But Adora’s her world. Always has been. So Catra sees first when her skin starts to glow.

Almost immediately, she hears Coronus give his screen as whack. “That can’t be right…” he grumbles, sounding puzzled and worried. Loo-kee shifts, just at the edge of Catra’s peripheral vision, and tugs sharply on the man’s arm, drawing his attention to Adora.

Catra can feel her smile and taste the tears on her cheeks that she hadn’t even realised she’d spilt. Was that when she was yelling at the idiot about the clones? Before? She doesn’t know. Leaning over, she plants a kiss between Adora’s bushy, dumb eyebrows, on her flushing cheeks, her lips that are going from unsettlingly blue to pink. 

“It’s better than right. Looks like she’ll be fine, chop doc.” Catra says, her voice rough. 

“Is… do Etherians always glow?” Astra asks, her voice soft with wonder. Loo-kee is the one who answers, laughing. 

“No, but She-Ra sure does.” Catra grins, nodding in agreement with the little squirrel. Alex whistles through their sharp teeth, and then hisses as the glow goes from soft to painfully bright in an instant. Adora groans, and starts to roll over, but Catra quickly puts a hand to her chest. 

“Don’t move, you’ll pull out some tubes, dummy,” she purrs, and there’s a little laugh from the pale one. 

“Ah, so  _ that’s _ what a happy kitty looks like,” Alex says. Catra ignores him. Catra ignores everyone but Adora’s soft, tired smile. Then Coronus is moving to help get the IV lines out and press gauze to the pinprick behind, only to be baffled to find nothing. 

“She really _is_ She-Ra.” he says, voice filled with wonder. Reminding Catra of not even half a day before, and another man’s surprise. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Adora says with a little chuckle, sitting up the second Loo-kee removes the last of her wires. “Oh, it’s the spy.” Loo-kee quickly shows her the Rebellion Symbol and Adora’s eyes widen in her own amazement. 

“Yeah, turns out they really _ were _ just keeping an eye on us for our own good.” Catra admits. “You good to stand, princess? I think they might need to put Glim on the machine, she doesn’t have any of your magical healing.”

“ _ I’ve _ got my magical healing, give me a second and I can see to her.” Adora says, but she lets Catra help her off the exam table onto shaky feet. Rolling her eyes, Catra tugs her away to allow Abigail to rest the Queen on the table next.

“You’re still shaky. At least let the doctor hook her up to see how she’s doing.” Adora frowns, and tries to push Catra away, but she’s not quite there yet. Coronus watches the pair of them, and to Catra’s amazement looks to her first, holding the freshly-cleaned IVs up. She shrugs and nods. He gets to work with Loo-kee immediately. Glimmer makes a reassuring sound of discomfort when the needles go in. That’s good. She’s not so far under anymore. 

Adora and her have a wordless argument between their eyes as Catra finds somewhere for her to sit. They settle on a box, and on Adora maybe not leaping up to heal everyone else.

“You can do Bow, okay? I just … you were down pretty bad.” Catra murmurs gently, kneeling and stroking Adora’s cheek. It’s so much warmer now. She could cry with relief, but won’t, not in front of everyone. Adora’s smile quirks into a smirk.

“Aww, you worried about me? That’s so embarrassing,” she teases, and Catra snorts, giving her a light punch in the arm.

“Gross, I don’t _like_ you, dork.”

“I thought you said she was your girlfriend?” Bexel says, sounding confused. Alex laughs. 

“You’ve clearly not dated the same sorts of people I have. This is perfectly normal.”

“For cats or for cat girls?” 

“It’s very normal for these two. I cannot say for anyone else,” Rupert says, a hint of affection in his voice. “Bow appears to be waking up, so Adora might not need to use her skills after all.” He’s right, the archer seems to have gone from unconscious to curled up and drooling in a way that resembles sleep more than drugging. His leg kicks like a dog and he mumbles something. Adora sticks her tongue out.

“When did you guys get here?” she asks. Abby smiles warmly and thumps her chest. 

“We mounted your rescue! I punched for freedom!” she says, proudly. Adora squints up at her and frowns. 

“Okay yeah, even if Bow’s fine, we’re going to have to fix your face.” Adora says, and Catra snort-laughs when Abby blushes.

“And Glimmer says  _ I _ don’t know how to talk to people. It’s fine, Abby, your black eye is just.. painful looking.” Catra reassures the poor clone, and she gets a nod in return. “Melog apparently convinced them to sneak out in stealth mode, and they got to Sundar’s just in time.”

“Losing communication with you was very worrying,” Rupert notes. “But I admit if it wasn’t for Melog’s instinct, we may not have gone.”

“I would have gone,” Abby argues petulantly, but Kadroh nods along with his brother. Coronus clicks his tongue from where he’s working and Catra looks over. 

“Well, it looks like Adora’s weirdness was all She-Ra, because Glim.. did you say her name was Glim? Glim here is pretty close to Denebrian. She’s a little odd, but nowhere near as much.”

“The odd is probably her magic,” Adora says. “Plus.. you know, I never even asked what her mom was? I mean, you saw Queen Angella, she had wings, and she was hundreds of years old. What  _ was _ she?”

“Yeah, well, can’t ask her now.” Catra replies, before realising how callous that sounds. “I mean.. Glimmer. Can’t ask Glimmer because she’s, you know… unconscious.” Adora just gives Catra a little smile and pats her arm as the feline looks away in embarrassment. 

“Rokkon, I keep meaning to ask, how did these offworlders even meet Melog? I thought he kept pretty hidden?” Bexel says, turning to the stone man. Catra is no expert on the granite face’s expression, but she thinks she can see a certain amount of worry in his eyes. They swing over to look at her, and then back to Bexel.

“They were attempting to remain hidden, yes.” Rokkon says, with a tinge of disapproval in his otherwise placid delivery. “The She-Ra had her own Melog.” 

Catra’s fur prickles at that. She can feel it standing up, ridged along her spine, and she knows her tail must be puffed out, but she doesn’t care. She can’t even catch her breath. Her eyes go from Rokkon to Alex, who merely jerks his head back towards the granite alien. 

“Let’s just say I had a standing order from stone-face to give him any information  vis-à-vis any aliens that looked like your feline friend. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting him to look or sound like a cat, though.” Alex says with what Catra is starting to recognise as their warm smile instead of a murderous grimace. Sighing, he turns to Rokkon fully, who’s now moved to stare at a sputtering, flushed Bexel. “Listen, big guy, I know Melog’s feelings, but do you think it’s fair for him to stay hidden from his own people like this?” 

“It is their choice. I believe the least sun has set, and you should not have any further issue with returning to the Shades.” Rokkon says firmly, turning and squeezing past Catra and Adora before heading to the door. Alex frowns, but makes no move to stop him, nor do the other Denebrians. Realising he’s leaving, Catra jumps up to follow him out the door. She can’t lose this, not when they’re so close! But when she swings it open, the monolith of a man has vanished. 

Catra doesn't trust that for a second. There was the possibility, assuming the man really did have his own Melog, that they'd teleported away. But Catra's nose says otherwise. That strange burnt metallic scent she remembers from when they first caught Loo-kee hangs in the air of the alley, and she's pretty certain that's Rokkon. She doesn't even need to feel for the magic to turn right to where the living boulder was standing and stare sternly into empty space. Thank goodness, as nightfall comes across the busy city of Gorn, no one is around to see her looking like she's furious with a rattling air conditioner.

"It's not going to work on me. I know all the tricks." Catra says. There's silence, which is promising, if only because her ears are straining to catch any footfalls away.

"Just...hear me out, alright? We came all this way for Melog, my Melog, because...because we wanted to do something for them. I did. I wanted to give… give them the hope that I don't have. That there might be people like them out there, still. That Prime didn't.." Catra's throat aches and bitterness coats her tongue, unable to finish the sentence. She can feel the salt on her cheeks drying into her fur from her last tears even as new ones threaten to spill. "You...you don't have to. _ Fuck _ , believe me, I'm never going to force you. I don't know what your life has been like, or where your head is, as far as meeting others of your kind goes. I  _ get it _ if you're not ready. But I'd like to think your big friend was watching out for others for the same reason we are. You don't want to be alone." 

The tears are making her vision blur and she quickly drags her palms across her eyes, forcing them away. She takes a deep, shaking breath. Her smile tries to be hopeful, but she can feel the sadness on her lips. 

"Please… just let me know that Melog's not alone…" she whispers. There's a softness in the air, a suction, like a door opening to a too-tightly-sealed room. Catra feels the magic flux and flow, and then, in front of her, they're there.

It was nothing that Catra expected, yet hauntingly familiar. The creature’s body was plum dark, and their wide cyan eyes glow with a flat light, but unlike Melog, her Melog, so expressive and warm, this face was squared-off, almost terrapin like, and emotionless. A sunburst of blunted spikes circle the back of their head, reminding Catra of the muted, simplified look of Melog's versions of ears. Two thicker ones are over their cheeks, and in this Catra can see that the Melog is echoing some ancient side-cousin of whatever Rokkon's species is. Instead of a heavy jointed shell on it's back, this Melog has a dual row of frills, and a long tail with a nebulous puff at the end. Their posture is bipedal, but the strong heavy arms hang so low that it can probably knuckle-walk if desired. In total it looks something like Rogelio, something like an ape, something like a turtle and everything like an alien. Cyan eyes blink at her, and they bob their head.

_ We are all of us, alone.  _ they say, and their voice echoes in her head like Melog's does, but also they're speaking Etherian? Or Galactic common, she imagines. And she's trembling with fear and shock and wonder. The Melog regards her curiously, before reaching up to gently brush a hand that could crush her head over her tousled hair, a finger tracing one of her pointed ears.  _ We are all alone, yet always with others. It is our nature. _

She isn't sure if they mean themself, or Melogs, or people in general. They take their hand away and examine it for a moment, before turning to Rokkon, now equally visible, if impassive.

_ I think the time for solitude and protection is over. _ the Melog says, and Rokkon shifts his stance, crossing his own powerful arms over his barrel chest. 

"As she said, she will not force your choice," Rokkon reminds the Melog, and Catra wonders if she's wrong in hearing a note of respect in his voice that she hadn't before. 

_ Our choice was to fight back, against our code. This is merely another step on that path. _

The Melog turns back to look over Catra. They loom, blocking out the glow from the humming lights overhead as they click on. So huge, with every bit the strength and mass of its rocky friend, yet their eyes are gentle. They stretch out their hand, and, impulsively, Catra presses her palm against theirs, claws hidden. Her own hand is dwarfed, and the contrast is almost laughable. Yet her instincts know that nothing on this planet, perhaps in this universe, is as safe as the creature before her. They seem satisfied with this gesture.

_ I believe it is time to be discovered. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this for ages, almost since the start of the story. Originally the first Melog they would meet was going to be more ram-like, but in working out how to update Rokkon from his classic [80's toy line look](https://he-man.fandom.com/wiki/Rokkon) to a modern alien, I settled on something that was like a bipedal glyptodon-ankyosaurus cross for his Melog. 
> 
> Yes, I said the _first_ Melog...


End file.
